Sigh. Readers, I am so miffed. I’m sat in Starbucks Clapham Junction, with unpainted nails, because my bloody salon double booked me this morning, and couldn’t offer me another appointment until 3pm.
I know, first world problems and whatnot, but damnit I’d really been looking forward to an hour of pampering for my poor hard working hands (okay fine, all they do is type and carry shopping, but that can cause significant wear and tear!) and frankly, while I could rearrange my plans and come back this afternoon, I really don’t want to. Therefore, I am manicure-less. And miffed about it.
You know what, it’s a simple pleasure, getting your nails done. It’s in the same world as a facial, or a back rub – not exactly necessary, but it doesn’t half make life in this city a bit more bearable. Without these simple pleasures, we spend our lives running ourselves ragged, chucking on a coat of polish at our desks first thing in the morning, exfoliating til our pores bleed just to rid ourselves of the grime of London life.
Actually, strike that, a manicure is a necessity. And so are the following supposedly ‘luxury’ items;
• Hot gym instructors
• Good shoes
• ’7′ jeans
• M&S superfood salads
• Mac lipsticks
• Steam rooms
• Soya lattes
• Proper Tampax
• Cath Kidston mugs
• Sky plus
• Matching underwear
Basically, if you’re a Londoner, these things should all be available on the NHS.
What do you reckon, have I missed anything?
I’ll leave that with you while I go compose a strongly worded email for my next few free of charge manicures. I’m damn good at that.