Wearing Wedding Shoes

As I rashly bought the highest heels I’ve ever owned as my wedding shoes (hello 5 inches) I’ve had to start wearing them in so I’m prepared to totter down the rustic path to the little chapel at the chateau in the South of France. In my own defense, I did buy them by accident as I didn’t realise how high they were until it was too late.

Completely impractical (and they’re suede!)

When I bought the shoes in April it was hard to imagine it would ever be warm again. Now with July a matter of hours away, summer is here and the south of France will be hot. It may even be over 30 degrees which exceeds my ideal temperature by at least six degrees.

The thing is, I suffer from the terrible affliction of hot feet during the summer. It’s a truly horrible thing and can only be cured by extinguishing the poor, swollen, burning feet in cold (preferably) iced water and even then, the relief is only temporary.

Given that condition, I’m concerned about how my feet will cope in five inch heels on a hot day. I’m walking around the little flat practising and so far, all is well but France could be a very different story.


Perhaps I’ll stash a pair of emergency flip flops in the chapel…

Accidental Drag Queen

Saturday morning and I toddled off into town to look at makeup and pretty things.

Somewhere along the way I have become very girly and truly love lingerie, high heels, handbags and makeup. Not all together and in an understated elegant way, of course.

And so I went to the Bobbi Brown counter at Selfridges and had a free makeup lesson for half an hour. I explained I was getting married in the south of France, that it would be hot and that I didn’t want to look shiny.

Half an hour later (and I confess, a lamb to the slaughter as I bought the lot) I walked out feeling pretty and landed right in the middle of the London Gay Pride parade.

Nice socks!

Marching bands, drag queens, music pumping and throngs of people. How did that happen? There was no one there when I went in.

The throngs

I wandered along until at Bond Street I realized I was stuck. No way forward except to shuffle slowly and no way back.

It was hot, claustrophobic, noisy and disorientating. I breathed deeply trying not to panic as the crowd slowly inched forward and people pushed and shoved around me. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the bottleneck dispersed and I stood, catching my breath on the edge of the crowd.

I decided to take myself to my favourite lunch place, Itsu, to buy lunch and take it to Regents Park to recover. A lovely treat.

After my impromptu picnic I decided enough shopping had been done, I couldn’t face Oxford Street again and so I strolled home through Primrose Hill enjoying a beautiful summer’s day. And then I spontaneously decided it was the perfect day for a Pimms and Wimbledon on the roof terrace. The quintessential English summer drink, with lemonade of course.

Ah, summer!

Once home though I looked in the mirror to see the results of the makeup makeover.

Hmm, the drag queens had some competition it would seem. Are three coats of mascara really necessary?

It appears I might need to practice before the wedding!

A cheap night out

Friday evening and I set off to Islington to meet my aunt, uncle and cousin for dinner. Yorkshire comes to Islington and we were off to a French restaurant, a warm-up for the wedding!

You know you’ve lived in London for a while when £3.95 for a starter sounds outrageously cheap, a main course is £8.95 and dessert is a bargain at £2.95. Prices unheard of and yet, those were the prices at Le Mercury, Deuxieme, on Upper Street in Islington.

The food was ok. I’ll be honest, it wasn’t epic and there’s a good chance I may get food poisoning from the Moules Marineres as they tasted slightly dubious but so far so good and I’m still standing. I couldn’t fault the prices and it was good company so an excellent evening all in all.

And then I staggered off to Holloway Road (the Thatchers were hurting) to get a late tube home.

Now there’s an experience…

The Final Countdown

Friday, and I’ve suddenly realised that this is my last free weekend before setting off to France on July 13th. Which is only in two weeks…

The next two weekends are booked up with friends and family and so it’s time to get serious as I still haven’t decided what I’m doing with my hair and makeup. Oh, and we don’t have any music organised yet so that’s not much of a party!

This weekend I’m planning a trip to Selfridges for a little makeup experimentation. This could backfire horribly as I tend to be fairly natural however perhaps this is the time to up the ante especially as it looks as though it will be hot and the last thing I want is a shiny nose! 

I may also venture into the world of lingerie while I’m there as, accused of being unromantic by my betrothed and it’s no good saying I’m from Yorkshire, there may need to be something pretty in my suitcase.

And so the wedding plans continue… a busy weekend ahead.

My Beating Heart

Well, great excitement, I only have a 0.9% chance of having a heart attack or heart disease. Well done my little black piece of coal, I mean, my heart. I’m good for another ten years at least, unless, as I pointed out, I get hit by a bus!

My cholesterol is very good, my BMI is 19 or something and generally I’m in excellent shape. And then the doctor said… for a woman my age. 

Was that really necessary?!

Over 40

You know you’ve hit the big time when you get a letter from the NHS offering you a free Over 40 health check! Life doesn’t get much better!

Yes, that’s my afternoon fun today. From cocktails at the Hotel du Cap Eden Roc and swimming in the Med on Sunday, to an only slightly less glamorous cholesterol and general health test in Primrose Hill this afternoon. 

Possibly the most depressing part is that it’s for the Over 40s. How did that happen? 

I am more than happy to have a free health check though and have secretly been enjoying the agonisingly slow service on the NHS after years of paying for health insurance in the US.

Stop the excitement, I can barely wait to find out my cholesterol level!

A layer of dust

After a very long day I came home to find that everything in the little flat in Chalk Farm was completely covered in a fine layer of white dust. The decorators had been in and had left a terrible mess.

And the fridge door had been open for four days.

It seemed like a good idea to go to bed.