Friends as therapy (just add Prosecco)

Sunday afternoon and for once I am on my own… Even the cat has decided to visit one of his many other families or he’s gone hunting for mice, which would be a bloody miracle as his hunting instinct appears to be non existent, unless his prey can barbecue itself and present it to him on the patio…

I took a day off work this week and did a ‘ladies that lunch’ day, with a close friend, who I only see once in a while. Obviously this was a liquid lunch, with the first ‘coffee’ turning into 2 glasses or fizz (which included raspberries, so one of our five a day..). People watching is one of my favourite past times and last week was Olympic standard, as the ‘real’ ladies were lunching and offering a veritable ‘all you can eat buffet of opportunity’ for me and my friend to observe.

We are at the age were we are beginning to realise that those ‘laughter lines’ are no longer ‘fine lines’ but huge crevices that are making me look more like the Joker, (minus the purple suit!) and should we invest in anti-aging treatments. So we sat and observed and wondered if we should invest in botox, fillers, chemical peels, snails entrails and whatever else we need to turn back the years. Now I’m not sure that a shiny face with a permanent look of surprise is really my look and judging by some of the women, who bore more than a passing resemblance to Pete Burns (Dead or Alive.. literally!), it’s not something they should have invested in either. So we concluded that we dare not invest in it, quite yet…. (keep with Nivea…)

Before we drank too much fizz, we wandered around a few of our favourite shops (which isn’t many, as where the hell do you shop when you hit your forties? – but lets save that for another day!). So we left the wine bar (handily situated in Selfridges) and found ourselves in the designer concessions… (on our way to the loo of course!). Fashion, really? now I am no Trinny Woodall (though I would recommend following her on Instagram). But WTF? No matter how much money I had, I don’t want a Gucci sweat shirt with a sequined cat on the front for £950,  nor do I want to buy what appears to be a green plastic Balenciaga bin bag for £645 (evidently it’s called a Bin oversized water-repellent shirt..), proving that money does not buy you taste or common sense…

As the afternoon progressed and we became more and more like a cross between Patsy and Edina from Ab Fab and the Fat Slags from Viz, it became apparent that no matter how long its been since we’ve seen each other, spending time with friends is the best anti-aging solution, money cannot buy. And there’s still time to consider Botox …

Author: Yorkshire lass

Trying to hold back the years, with a glass of Merlot in one hand and anti ageing cream in the other View all posts by Yorkshire lass