Cherubs, I have nothing about Single Life today. Zip. Mostly all I can think about is whether or not my beauty therapist made me look the teeniest bit like Groucho Marx yesterday by not making my eyebrows thin enough or by dying them maybe a leetle too dark a brown. But I can distract myself from this horrible thought by staring at my bee-oo-tee-ful pink fingernails. Yesterday was beauty shop day, and I enjoyed it.
Today B.A. and I toddled up and down Edinburgh's Nicholson street and environs looking for bargains. We bought the following:
computer monitor cleaning wipes (I)
a bottle of white wine (B.A.)
a box of "Tension Tamer" tea (I)
Roger Scruton's I Drink Therefore I Am (B.A.)
new heels on my best boots (I)
a chicken pastry from Gregg's (B.A.)
Two Fat Ladies: The Cookbook (B.A. & I)
lunch at "Black Medicine" (B.A. & I)
I almost bought a lot of stuff, but didn't. For example, there was a lovely dark green, brand new wool-cashmere blend overcoat in a charity shop for £12, but when I put it on, I thought it looked--and I looked--too military, as in World War 2 military. Sort of stern and war-weary. I want something nipped in at the waist from now on. I'm tired of all the up-and-down-ness of too many winter coats, you know?
In Blackwell's book shop, where B.A. didn't want to go, lest he weaken and buy full-price books (which he did), I searched high and low for a book specializing in mastering language acquisition, but couldn't find one. The study guides were all about math and writing essays.
Now that I am home I have been looking at shoes online.That's the kind of Saturday it is.
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