Tickets, Money, Passport?

In my on-going attempt to turn myself into Bree Van de Kamp, I dyed my hair at the weekend whilst sporting some very fetching red underwear. I also took some special smiley pills and chugged some Pink Zinfandel from California and sure felt mighty fine.

The sad truth is that whilst I did dye my hair, it isn't a vibrant shade of red, rather a warm chestnut to combat an ever losing battle against the onset, nay rampage of grey which is starting to win. If I could afford to get it done professionally I would but the bastards at the council (oh how fickle I am) have hit me with a bill for £4000 for my share of the new lifts. I tell you what, once I've paid for that I'm having a lift warming party and gonna decorate my little piece of it (all 1/27th of it) all pretty like. I'm making a mood board as we speak.

But wait, you can't just dye your hair to become a desperate housewife, it takes more attention that than. Oh yes. Why on Friday night alone I did a mini-facial and some plucking; again economy forces me to employ the tweezers where once the organic beautician would have gone. The tools of the trade being organic, not the beautician - though I guess she is, being human after all.

Saturday was a day of domestic chores, walking down to Bethnal Green and collecting my irreparable boots before heading home and making a skirt; I truly am a multi-skilled housewife. With the skirt not quite finished - those pesky zips can be the bane of sewing success - I dekamped for a prior date at the local for a swift pint before taking myself off to a disco. Yes kids, disco is back. Well did it ever really leave? Actually it wasn't a disco, not in the conventional sense. There was, thankfully, no overt 70's theme or back to school motif though I must confess there was a slight Dolly theme. And well, you can't say no to that. It was nice to go dancing, and in future I must remember that handbags are a hindrance and not a help in busting a move. Treated myself to a bagel on the way home and picked up the Sunday papers. It was really rather delightful.

However if you think Saturday was domestic, oh my giddy aunt, Sunday I was tripping on the homemaker pills. Finishing the skirt off, cutting out another one, making plans for a cushion, draping fabric all over the sitting room, listening to the wireless, taking a long walk down to the river, coming home and baking an apple cake (not very good though I must confess), arranging flowers, watching The Hours on DVD, painting my nails and finally in a true moment of sadness admiring myself in the mirror decked out in a swish ruffled blue apron with a Wedgwood patterned tea towel tucked just so into the tieback.

Say hello honey, Bree is in the building.