I’m with General Melchett on that one. I wish the world was a safer, happier, healthier place to live and procreate in.
However, there is one aspect of security that I hate, although I do realise that it is a necessary evil – airport security. We live in a time when it’s essential, I understand that, it’s just that there must be a better way.
I’m sure that I’m not alone when I feel ever so slightly violated whilst going through – all of your liquid toiletries in a clear plastic bag – there’s a reason that the contents of a lady’s handbag are sacred and that clear plastic little bag takes away some of the mystery in being a woman. And then there’s the fact that you have to take half of your layers off and usually your shoes – this makes for an interesting balancing act, undressing whilst walking is never a good option for a clumsy person. Not to mention the fact that your underwear is on display at on all fronts – what with your belt being removed and your jacket off – pants and bra straps aplenty. I’ve learned to keep my jacket and belt on until I’ve taken my shoes off – the order you undress is important, you don’t want more of yourself falling out than is absolutely necessary.
The smaller the airport, the more scrutiny you get, probably because they have less sophisticated equipment to hand and more manpower available per passenger. I usually get frisked at the smaller airports.
I don’t mind my luggage or my person being searched, scrutinised or patted down – I just wish we could incorporate a little more technology to help us along the way. The full body scanners are controversial – but I’m all for them. Anything that stops me inadvertently flashing at strangers is a plus in my book. Hopefully, there’s some lovely new sci-fi inspired technology to come before too long.
In the meantime, “Crevice is a dirty word, but security isn’t”.
I have a large desk – I need a large desk – actually, I really do. None of that minimalist, tidy all your tat away each and every day for me. I like to look at things that remind me of loved ones and some of the places I’ve visited. So no matter how bad the day is going I have a little bit of happiness with me each and every day.
You can see from this image that I have a snow globe and a crystal ball to hand as well as a small, leather-bound notebook, and post it notes with lists, lists and more lists.
This is a small part of my desk – I also have a thank you note, a note from my Mum, books, business cards, and a picture of donkeys. I like donkeys, they make me smile.
Two of a Kind
by David Hastilow
And in a world where stress is ever present you need to be surrounded by things that make you smile. Oh, and a laptop, keyboard, monitor, network hub, chargers and all sorts of other business-like paraphernalia too.
I like clutter, I like to have a lot of things to look at. It stimulates and comforts me. It also grounds me on the days where I feel the better option is to launch myself out of the 11th floor window just to see if my cape gives me super hero powers.
Health, happiness and donkey smiles to one and all for 2014.
Getting my hair cut used to be an absolute ordeal, but finding a hairdresser you trust is one of life’s great pleasures. Especially one you can enjoy a glass of wine with.
Over the years I’ve had my fair share of hairtastrophes, namely:
- when a hairdresser cut into my ear rather my hair (ears bleed more than you think they would)
- when a hairdresser gives you chemical burns and your fringe falls out
- when you ask for an inch off and they give you a pixie crop
- when a perm took so long I had to leave the salon with my hair dripping wet and still toxic to make the ferry home from university
Thus, when I find a hairdresser who makes me look great and feel fabulous, who’s had me in tears of laughter and who I trust enough to say, “do what you want” – that’s someone I’ll share a glass of wine with. Lately this has been mid appointment, although she waits until all the chemicals have been washed out and the cutting is complete before quaffing along with me.
One of life’s guilty pleasures – you bet. But I leave with a smile and a swagger (minus the bobble hat) looking my best.
As with the answer to the meaning of life in The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, it’s 42. Co-incidentally, it’s the age I’ll be this year. So that must be right, mustn’t it?
Actually, I don’t actually know how many shoes I own. If MrShoeThatAlwaysFits is asking – it’s twenty pairs – it’s still too many in his estimation but almost reasonable. The truth is somewhat higher, which means that I need to have a clear out, a big one. Out go the scuffed, the worn, the almost never worn because I just can’t break them in, and the really really high ones. The keepers will be those which go with my clothes, the comfortable and the still smart; along with a couple of implausibly spindly heels for proper black tie events.
The only problem with having a clear out is the urge to buy more. I must desist. I must desist.
I’ll be sad to see these beauties go, but with a 5 inch heel height both of them are just a tad too impractical to be contenders. They’ve been a talking point over the last two years, but it’s time to say goodbye.
Goodbye my friends, to my faithful purple suede wedges a well-worn favourite. Being a wedge, they were surprisingly comfortable and only steep downhill slopes could be deemed dangerous territory.
And lastly, a pair that I’ve only ever worn once because they were so high that my feet took a week to recover after wearing them to a dinner. Pretty, glittery death traps.
There will be others that I’ll have to say adieu to, but these four pairs will be the first to go. And for Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits, that’s me down to 16 pairs. A completely sane and normal amount.