Resolution 34
Hmm. It has been brought to my attention that in a rare moment of intoxication during the Festive Period (surely a contradiction in terms, especially if it’s a dachshund that’s bleeding) I may have resolved to blog more and better.
Now then, it’s all well and good to make rash promises but I have to say that since I hauled my sorry ass back from Italy there is simply nothing in life worth recording. This could be because I am trying to stick to the other 33 resolutions (one for each year of my life), starting with my two old favourites: no fags or booze.
The only way I can stick to this regime is to come straight home at night, avoiding all corner shops and bars, immediately put on pyjamas (to avoid late night dashes to aforementioned establishments) and get into bed with laptop, DVDs of 1960s French films and jar of gherkins, staying there until dawn breaks, resisting the temptation to pick up old fag ends from my balcony, dry them out on the radiator and re-form them into a sorry travesty of a Marlboro Light.
It’s only day three and I’ve already matched up all my odd socks, thrown away the out of date herbs and spices that were littering my kitchen cupboards and even cleaned behind the toilet. These are not things to be blogged about. They do not make me look cool. Where are my days of dancing around my flat in green high heels to Shirley Bassey and posing topless on Cadillacs at weddings? They might not have made me look cool either but at least they were worth recording.
So. There it is. Either a life of debauchery, good times and the stories to prove it for your enterrrrrtainment or a clean and sober but silent Lady V tucked up in bed each night ready for Book at Bedtime on Radio 4.
Readers - you decide.
Now then, it’s all well and good to make rash promises but I have to say that since I hauled my sorry ass back from Italy there is simply nothing in life worth recording. This could be because I am trying to stick to the other 33 resolutions (one for each year of my life), starting with my two old favourites: no fags or booze.
The only way I can stick to this regime is to come straight home at night, avoiding all corner shops and bars, immediately put on pyjamas (to avoid late night dashes to aforementioned establishments) and get into bed with laptop, DVDs of 1960s French films and jar of gherkins, staying there until dawn breaks, resisting the temptation to pick up old fag ends from my balcony, dry them out on the radiator and re-form them into a sorry travesty of a Marlboro Light.
It’s only day three and I’ve already matched up all my odd socks, thrown away the out of date herbs and spices that were littering my kitchen cupboards and even cleaned behind the toilet. These are not things to be blogged about. They do not make me look cool. Where are my days of dancing around my flat in green high heels to Shirley Bassey and posing topless on Cadillacs at weddings? They might not have made me look cool either but at least they were worth recording.
So. There it is. Either a life of debauchery, good times and the stories to prove it for your enterrrrrtainment or a clean and sober but silent Lady V tucked up in bed each night ready for Book at Bedtime on Radio 4.
Readers - you decide.
posted by Lady V at 10:07 pm
6 Comments:
i for one find both absolutely riveting. green-heeled tots. loo-scrubbing totty.
and am grateful to be bestowed lots of practical pointers. the slipping into pyjamas on entering house is a particularly useful tidbit. and will cut down on the amount of bollox blogged while inebriated.
also. at the end of the month we can do DVD swaps. your 1960s french frooFroo for my 1930s sophisticated comedy.
what else. i think it's about time we found ways ROUND our resolutions. not necessarily not keeping them. we are tots and true to our words but you know, cheat a little. eg we might have to settle for a ripped-out page from marie claire featuring burberry kate, much better than the real thing no doubt.
erm yes.
That's not really a choice, is it? You *know* what we want...
well well..
1st have you ever picked up cigs off you balcony and dried them the on radiator?
Darling no need to give up your resolutions, you can still enterrrrtain me even in pijama eating jerkins. After all with the 33 years of your life I'm sure you have enough to fill 100 blogs..
Book at Bedtime at radio 4 what's that?? you can't even be bothered to read now ? was that the 32nd resolution, this year I will only listen to books read to me or something?
Well miss you. If you want you can still come around for green tea, broth and the new series of the L word. Watching is not a sin, not yet!
Oh, was feeling slightly sheepish about my evident alcohol dependence but you've all cheered me up no end... I shall combine all suggestions forthwith, purchasing Marie Claire in order to rip out Kate, stick to mirror and snog in schoolgirl fashion, thus completing resolution 24, have shaved legs so that's resolution 13 taken care of, L word, L word L word yes yes yes, I'll come round in a taxi in my pyjamas and not leave until we've willed Shane to leap off that screen and into our beds. Mmm.
Sicily, Book at Bedtime on Radio 4 is one of the things I love. Every night at 10.45 pm, a 15 minute story. Usually one book serialised a week. I have been known to turn down shags to listen to it. Sad but true. Also sad but trus that I have indeed picked up cigs, dried out, and re-rolled. Done it in Tuscany as well. Ah well. Day 4....
did i hear broth?
am there!!!
my little red jim jams with dogs on them are a perfect post-festive xmas match for lady v's shocking green emsemble. sicily in the middle. broth all round.
Ah. La Tot in green stilettos cleaning toilets? People would pay good money to see this...
Post a Comment
<< Home