Brown in parts

Following assiduous application of Dove Sun-Kissed doodah on face, can now report have noticed definite change of colour. Not, am relieved to note, orange. At least not yet. Only problem seems to be, everywhere else still white. Okay, dingy grey.

Mad sister has informed me that she had her eyebrows done again. I have no eyebrows, and hers are a little sparse, but they are now apparently Highly Visible and resemble two dark brown caterpillars crawling across forehead. Has also been to hairdressers and emerged with pudding bowl haircut. All sounds most attractive. Related tale of self's visit to local salon, and failure to become blonde, following application of semi-permanent tint. She scoffed at this, and told me I need a Permanent Tint, as semi-permanent won't do the job. Should have consulted her in first place it seems. Am thinking of doing hair self. Many products on market to achieve this, and can't be any worse. Well, could be actually. Might go bald. Have treated self to retro style summer dress, in manner of late fifties. Is flowery, strappy, and has long circular skirt which swirls most gratifyingly when moving. Downside is, have to wear small cardigan to conceal pleated arms. Am wondering if arm replacement might be option. Have two new toned ones sewn on. Alternatively, could iron out pleats maybe. Ho Hum.

The Future Must Not Be Orange

Rats, have just lost blog. Was nearly finished as well. Is very irritating. Two has vamoosed again, off to, ahem, Chesterfield. Have showered, annointed ageing body parts with cream, and applied Dove moisturiser containing slow release effect to achieve sun-kissed complexion in a week. Can only pray will not be sporting orange moustache by Saturday. Am anxiously peering in mirror every few minutes. So far, no orange moustache evident. Am trying to find cure for pleated arms, which are becoming quite terrifying to behold. Is bad enough having face rushing past self when looking down, but arms now following suit. Cannot defy gravity it seems

Am about to reveal that am On Horns of Personal Dilemma. Reluctant to reveal details, suffice to say Am Well and Truly Impaled. Do not know what to do for best. Is time possibly for Courage, but as mentioned before, jittery is my default mode. Will give matter more thought. Is Wimbledon at moment, so am able to distract self.

En France continued.....

Had lovely time with grandsons, three and six years old. Both almost entirely bilingual, which is more than we can say for their mono-lingual, but Will Persist in Mangling French, Nana. Daughter took me and grandsons on trip into Paris central, which caused great concern to three year old, who kept saying in imperative manner, 'Come, come, Nana' as we boarded the various Metro lines. He seemed agreeably worried that I might get lost, and kept checking I was Still In Tow. The six year old was more sanguine, but demonstrated Very Good Manners on many occasions, carrying any heavy items that I became burdened with.

Went to the International School's International Day, which consisted of a great many stalls selling ware pertinent to their country of origin. English stall laden with cakes, American with hot-dogs, German with Vast Unchewable Sausages etc. etc. Chief impression was of Highly Competitive Parents, aghast at very thought of Coca-Cola, and enrolling their exhausted offspring in myriad extra-curricular activities, presumably so they have no opportunity of meeting up with the Devils Brew, or experimenting with any other noxious substances. All highly laudable I agree, and Highly Responsible Parenting. One Highly Responsible Mother was shocked beyond belief that she met somebody who actually Had A Bottle of Coca-Cola on the table AT MEALTIMES! She harped on this heinous crime for quite some time, until I felt like remarking that at least it wasn't a pot of crack cocaine, but resisted impulse as felt it wouldn't have Gone Down Too Well.

Take a seat duck........

Before I continue further with my French Connection experiences, I have to record visit to local hairdressers this morning. How delightfully unsophisticated were they, from the casual 'hang your coat up duck', to the equally unsophisticated and delightfully unexpected cost. Had decided grey hair was in need of Easing Out, and requested to Be Blonde. Must admit in harsh light of day, looked reasonably blonde already, but embellishments of grey Not Attractive. Having 'taken a seat duck', I was presented with choices of colour, advised which one to have, advised to go for semi-permanent, 'in case you don't like it duck', and was accordingly slathered in appropriate tint. No escorting to chairs took place. 'Sit over there my duck, there's some magazines on shelf, would you like a drink'? Everybody in there seemed to be friends, it was all most convivial. Once 'cooked', I was told to 'sit down at washbasin, no-this one duck, just got water warm and it takes ages to heat up'. Shampooed and blown dry, I went to pay with debit card, but they didn't have machine. A cheque would be fine they said. I have no cheque book now. Amazingly the cost was just under £20. This much cash I had. Last time I was coloured Down South, it cost £90. Shall I be returning for permanent tint? You bet I will duck.

Le Blog Posted to Wrong Place

Note to legions of followers. First Blog relating to French Visit by self, has been accidentally posted to Tickle Your Fancy. Haven't clue how to retrieve and re-designate. Sorry. Je suis desolee. (That looks wrong).