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

Friday, February 19, 2010

19 February - Ten years after

It's the name of a band but it's also the amount of time elapses since I did a course with a bunch of nice people who meet once a year at most but always seem such a pleasure to chat to.
Conversation was definitely better than my risotto. I have to stop cooking for myself and learn to cook for others, in other words, a risottow will only ever be perfect if I drown it in butter. I cannot bring myself to put enough salt/butter/oil on stuff so it never tastes like it does in restaurants. Funnily enough, what came out best was what I bought in Waitrose ready to go in the oven... Sigh....

Anway, Toph most impressed that T. is 67 and not gay. He's very slim, dresses in tight blight t-shirts and black jeans and exercises like mad. I tell Toph one main reason is that he left his first family for a much younger woman and has a daughter who's only entered her teens now. In other words, he tries to keep up. Toph most enthused, wants to age same way. I commend it. Salt and butter remain off the menu.


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