My reliable sieve like memory eludes me at the moment, and I distinctly remember saying something incredibly stupid on this very blog about 40 being just a number...... Bollocks. Like the Richter scale of life, it's a chronometer that measures how much you're body is going to give way to the symptoms of advancing years.
As I hunch into my seat in an effort to alleviate the discomfort of a back that has abruptly given way, wondering if I'll have to cancel a much anticipated burlesque night (watching....!!), I startle the upper deck with peculiar sounds of mirth while trying not to fall off the seat..... the pole dancing domestic goddess has sent me an email:
"Subject: Story
Once upon a time there was a beautiful shiny tin box who had just been given to a fair domestic goddess. The box was lonely and empty and kept asking the frigging lady "why am I here?, what's my destiny?, when can I be of use". And the wise but scatty lady said "patience, my dear, your day will come... actually it's coming next week on Wednesday and you will be filled with yummy marble cake bites, rich soft brownies and delicious lemon tartlets".
Now let's ask the magic mirror what that trollop princess Apara wants for her birthday!
Love and fairy dust to all"
"Subject: RE: Story
Now that the trollop princess has picked herself off the floor and composed her regal features into a more becoming cast.......she will srunch her eyes tight, wrinkle her nose and hope the friggin' magic mirror delivers Hugh Jackman as promised!! if not, she will write a strenuous letter of complaint to the pole dancing domestic goddess and bicycle balancing offspring of burgerking sidekick......
P.S. - there is no greater satisfaction than watching destiny being fulfilled..... "
"Subject: RE: Story
I have no colourful language skills. I have no fairy dust to waste and just would like to point out, that as much as we like you Apara, if we can get Hugh Jackman, we will have to keep him! any other wishes would be fine."
Moral of the story: Once upon a time, in a far, far away foreign land, three stunningly beautiful and erudite princess' were forced to work as bonded labour for an evil English old boys' club. An Italian, German and Indian who despite their distant homelands (don't miss the Germans any other wishes would be fine...no guessing who's in charge of the wish list) continued to age gracelessly....
Ladies, it has been an honour and privilege. What time is the pole dancing lesson?
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