Friday: Lost (Again!) on the Streets of London

Another day, another dose of freezing rain - what fun!  At least I'm home typing in the warm but I must confess that my thighs got really cold on the school run today - I'd enclose a picture of them if I thought it pertinent to the blog, but it isn't so I won't.  Despite wearing gloves and slathering my hands with Neutrogena lotion (the choice of big hairy Norwegian fishermen apparently - yikes!) my poor pinkies are still chapped  and I attach a picture for your delectation and also so that you can admire my Boots Number 7 nail polish in the rather spiffing 'Damson' hue.  Here's hoping that I'm not recognised in the London area by the shots of my feet and hands I upload via this blog on a regular basis! Yes, I do have large hands and no, I cannot get most ladies gloves to fit with the exception of John Lewis' XL size.  I also cannot get bangles over my hands and no, I'm not a bloke and unfortunately despite having really long fingers I cannot play the piano very well.  Apparently women with large hands aren't popular with the majority of men because it makes their member look commensurately smaller if the aforementioned lady is holding it in her hand!

So, Duchess - how did you get on with your erotic writing workshop last night?  Oh, thanks for asking but I never got there.  Despite living in London for the majority of my life I always find that I get lost because I'm often journeying to strange places to experience odd courses.  Last night I couldn't locate Hoxton Square however hard I tried, but if you don't know the east end of London you'd probably be in the same boat.  I'm really strange like that - I always get really confused the first time I go somewhere and then after that I'm fine.  It's a shame and my poor feet got really sore as a result, plus my tights kept falling down:

They are Marks and Spencer 60 (or is that 40?) denier opaques but they tend to sag after a long walk and more worryingly, bunch up underneath the ball of my foot causing soreness.  It didn't help that the Doctor Martens knee-length diva boots I was wearing were rucking up on the right heel, rubbing and causing a blister.  Ok - let's really wallow in a myriad of self-pity now - poor old me - the fact that the #141 bus to I boarded back to London Bridge firstly meant that some big nosed idiot pushed me out of the way when I tried to take my favourite 'driving' seat at the front of the top deck, but to add insult to injury the flipping vehicle terminated early in Monument and I had to walk across the Thames (via the bridge: I'm not Jesus) with the bitter wind biting into my face.  When I finally got home I snapped a picture of my poor afflicted sole: granted it doesn't look particularly bad, but it's uncomfortable still.

God, I've really whinged today haven't I?  With this in mind I shall complete my scribblings, log off and attempt to do some ironing.  It's the school fayre this afternoon and therefore a pity that it's such poor weather.  We've got a horse and buggy there too - are you thinking as I am that they'll be no greenery left in the grounds once the horsies have munched it all?  And as for the manure aspect - well I don't think the attached poo bag element was ever sorted out!