Monday 29 December 2008

Happy Monday

Hurtling through the Cornish lanes this afternoon, late for an optician's appointment and screaming along to 'Livin' on a Prayer', I heard a thunk. Definitely metallic and coming from the rear of my old, yet trusty Fiesta. I pulled over, leapt out, and retrieved my exhaust from the middle of the road. Bugger.

I was rescued by my friend (yes, I do have one...) and delivered, in true Superwoman style, to keep my appointment at Specsavers. If you were in Falmouth High Street this afternoon and saw a distraught woman being thrown from a moving car, fear not; I'm bruised, but still alive.

My optician said: "Okay, let me get this straight: you're studying for an MA, bringing up two teenagers on your own, and you spend most nights falling asleep at the laptop. You've just handed in three massive portfolios, organised Christmas and lost the exhaust on your car. And you claim to be suffering from frequent unexplained headaches?"

I tried to explain that the exhaust wasn't technically lost, as I knew where it was, but she'd lost interest by this point.

Suffice to say, my gorgeous friend and I spent a jolly hour trying on new specs and generally shocking the sombre, male staff:

"What about these lime-green glasses? Do I look shaggable in these?"

We chose a sexy red pair, reminiscent of an old TV advert: a secretary sits being her beech-pannelled desk straightening a pile of documents. The rest of her workspace is clear. She stands up and smoothes out the non-existant creases in her tailored grey skirt. The crisp, white blouse she's wearing was freshly ironed that morning. She glides forwards and slides her bottom onto the corner of the desk. She reveals long, smooth-skinned legs. As she leans forwards, there's a glimpse of red lace, a shadow between her creamy breasts. She lowers her head slightly and gazes over the top of her red, narrow-framed glasses. Tilting her head slowly, she pouts at the camera. This is one hot momma.

Well, those are my glasses! I can't do much about the boobs, but by God, I'll be practising the faces. Watch out, boys - grrr!

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