Tuesday
17 November 2015
18
degrees lovely sunny day
Decided
I needed some retail therapy and took myself off to our local big
town to look for glitter. If you think you are too old for glitter,
I can assure you that you are not. There is something inherently
joyful in shiny things.
I
went into Foir'fouille, a pun on farfouiller (to root around in) –
a wonderful French verb which has no English equivalent. I have to
say, it was fearsomely festive. The shine and sparkle of a thousand
decorations was like an injection of energy. The staff looked much
brighter than normal. The shoppers were smiling and trying on Santa
hats. OMG there were snow shakers. I LOVE snow shakers! I found
myself smiling too.
I
found two triple packs of glitter – very fine, teeny tiny cubes and
larger cubes in tones of white with rainbow overtones and greys to
black. I could see them in so many little earrings and even a big
bangle. Also as pendants with half painted another colour in a matt
shade and sealed with a shiny resin topcoat. Also found some stud
earring sundries. In French they are known as fixations.... and,
speaking of fixations....
Had
a coffee and looked at Instagram. Oh dear now I have a very bad
Instagram habit, to add to my bad Facebook habit. Thank God, I
manage to avoid Pinterest. Gave some keys for copying to the
taciturn cordonnier and took my badly stained suede coat to the
cleaners. She said it would have to go away to be cleaned and gave
me a huge quote. It must have been the glitter; I said just do it.
Back
home and OH was in manic running around 'I cant find stuff' mode.
His normal technique, when looking for items, is to go to the drawer
which actually contains them, and whizz it out with great speed. If
the item is not immediately visible, the drawer is then whizzed shut.
Repeat with all drawers at least three times before assuring me that
the items are not there. Superman would have trouble seeing the
items in the short time the drawers are open.
Open
drawers, extract items and put in bulging bag whose zip doesnt work.
He stuffs it into the car and we have kippers mash and beans for
supper. We know how to live, us.
No comments:
Post a Comment