Diary of Lisa Taylor, reluctantly 42 (and a half)

Or.. 'f.ck me I'm forty.. two.. and a half', though can look 38 on a - not so deluded - good day. Or 'How to reconcile a well experienced mind trapped in a still - but for how long? – youthful body.' Don't have the 30somethings angst/problems, neither have the resigned (?) ageing baby-boomers in safe family territory outlook yet. Here's how I cope, one day all sexy women will get old... but never invisible. © Lisa Taylor 2005/6/7/8/9. Jeez.. so much for the 42 and-a-half delusion

Monday, October 26, 2009

24 October - le world de bank

Can't go far geographically at the mo, and so it is that lunch is at Daylesford organic in westbourne grove. Have come out in blue velvet trackie bottoms, nice top and totally unrelated green heavy leather burberry bag. And pink leather light coat. So bit of a jam really but since am 'ill' and hair is clean and make up applied, that's all i thought I should bother with. And i have a stick and funny shoes so could have left the mental hopsice with my carer sort of thing.

Unfortunately for me, the place is overrun by ladies who lunch and their prole. To my right some immensely well turned out, model-height brit and an american g/friend. One with hermes kelly bag, couldn't see the other one's bag, both with 2 adorable children each. The women didn't come across as knowing each other too well, and nothing juicy in conversation, in fact, couldn't work out why they bothered except that you gotta eat. Over on the other side an uber posh tall grandma with less good looking daughter and her tiny baby, further on still, other expensive looking people.

I order a vegetable pad thai. What was i thinking. Of course there are no noodles in it and am basically paying a tenner for some shredded carrots and cabbage, though the pad thai side of it must be the chilli which gives it some flavour. ho hum, I tell Toph who's disbelieving of the break in trade description act that I'll have to kid myself that am eating like a supermodel, though am sure one of them would not have had even lemon juice on the veggies but er, nothing at all.

Basically it's not often I think i live amongst aliens but a mere shift of 500 yards from the usual stomping ground of under the westway and golborne road with its moroccan fish lunches of whole seabass and more for 7 quid, is causing me to severely doubt that this location opposite ralph lauren - a shop you never see anyone in, or in smythson for that matter, sorry sam cameron - is the same London i live in. What do these women do ? I mean the ones who don't work or worked long enough to have the banker husband and the beautiful kids? Aren't they utterly bored? I may be institutionalised but not having gone to work for a month is sending me round the twist, but then again i failed to book entire days out to the beauty spa, hairdresser, massage, nails, sort out the nanny and so on. But even if i had tons of money to shop with, what would i buy? you can't just keep going into matches to get one more dress and another and another?

And I don't imagine for a second that all these people lunching here today give a toss about the planet and what the owners of this shop believe in - since they display all their nice mottoes and mission statements etc etc about sustainable this and organic that. I don't want to come across all hippy save the world and i don't lack spondulis either, but what i just spent a tenner on is a total insult to people who have nothing to eat. I ate ten quid's worth of grass. Out of choice. I feel sick somehow. Toph who doesn't have these thoughts since he's never felt so sorry for the world, suggests moving on to nearby Ottolenghi for coffee and cake. I decline. I feel like places like that full of smarmy city assholes should just have their windows smashed in. Clearly am not feeling well, really not feeling well if displays of obscene consumption trouble me this much and let's not talk about the other nearby shop just selling you expensive chocolates, and never let me go near harrods ever again. So Toph has to make do with an apple crumble in daylesford. He searches for the apples in it and finds some. Still, apples in the uk are 20 a pound so what's the mark up on a quarter of apple and some crumble at a fiver or was it six quid? why is this allowed?


  • At 2:00 PM, Anonymous ineke said…

    this is why i love you!! haha x


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