petite anglaise

I intended to post properly today. I really did. I had something deep and meaningful in mind. Something about what marriage actually means to me.

But I only just finished preparing our party venue (a very nice appartment in an hôtel particulier which looks fine now, but at 4pm, when the bachelor boys who live there had not yet removed their festering clothes and dog-eared possessions, looked anything but).

It’s been a long, long day, and the hairdresser from hell is coming to tame my hair into a chignon in approximately six hours time, using my scalp as a pincushion and asphyxiating me with several litres of Elnett hair spray.

Hopefully I will be able to prevent her from transforming me into a cast member of Priscilla Queen of the Desert when it comes to make-up time.

Watch this space…