I put petrol in my car. When I finished, the total wasn't a figure; it just read "You owe us a kidney". From now on, I shall be driving at twenty miles per hour in fourth gear. I may even buy a driving hat and gloves. And I could get a tartan picnic blanket and fold it neatly and put it on the parcel shelf.
So. I was out and about, and some things came to my attention about summer attire. Women: know your rack. Twice, I saw women wearing fitted tops, with strapless bras beneath. How do I know they were strapless? Why, because the elastic around the top of the bra was chopping these women's racks in half horizontally. The four-bosom look doesn't work, ladies. Buy a mirror.
Maxi dresses; they're all the rage, no? Marvellously voluminous, but really loves - if you're wearing one, make sure it fits. There is nothing so unseemly as a woman constantly tugging at the fabric beneath her armpits in an effort to make sure her frock isn't falling down.
And lastly, in a league quite her own; a pregnant woman. She must have been a size 8, with a huge bump. A proper, neat and tidy, though huge, bump. And she was wearing a zebra print frock. A figure hugging, tight, zebra print frock. As she walked towards me, I couldn't take my eyes off it; it was like watching a flame. Or J-Lo's behind.
Anyway. The sun is out, and the Pimms is on order. Oh yes; not for me the tedium of going to the shop. I have a man who brings the Pimms to me. This is what you should all be aspiring to. I like to set the bar high.
Good afternoon to you all, my darlings
Love as ever
Aunty
xx
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