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

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

30 June - Charidees & Caffeine

the Angolan charity worker friend sends a picture of the exterior and interior of the container that functions as her home in the middle of nowhere. Am all for the simple life but this is ghastly viewing. She writes:
Dear all, as you may be aware when I arrive back in London I spend most of my time saying things like; 'oh running hot water' 'a flushing toilet' 'clean clothes' and the even better...SOFT TOILET ROLL . My NGO prides itself on only spending 6% of its funds on expats , thier food and accomodation-unlike Madonna who spent 3.2 million bucks of other peoples money without laying a brick in Malawi, or Bono who of the gazillions his ONE project gets spent $187,000 in Africa!!!!!!!!!!!!!! disgusting...or the UN and Oxfam who fly all expats first class-when we are down the back next to the loos.

Thought you should know when you next reach for making some donations, not that Madonna raises anything so if she wants to squander her money so be it. Eejiot

I will also bury in this post the following informationa, of which I'll have to start giving you more as the years start to impinge into my youthful period and enlarge the descent into old age one. I was recently out on a rainy sunday with some visiting friends/tourists. We stopped for lunch and as they ordered a glass of wine I did too and got a large glass of full bodied red (they always bring you large glasses, darn), Then an espresso lungo and for some reason they made that a double. Later on I went to meet a friend who was in the early stages of getting drunk in a bar naer the ROH and since I didn't want to join her cocktail hour, I asked for a fruit cocktail and an americano. This they made it seems just by adding 4 espressos into a large cup. I did clock that the fruit cocktail was made of excessive quantities of sugar but was busy chatting. It was only later when I got home and a massive dump was the first thing I had to do as I rushed throught the door that i thought back on this consumption as I lay on the sofa in the grips of headache that doesn't shift for 3 hours and 2 nurofens. The perils of clean living! Imagine if I had also said yes to .. I don't know... a line and a real cocktail? I'd have died in a most stupid way. The moral has to be talk less and register what you're given that doesn't correspond to what you've ordered.

And I should also register in defence of slowly getting drunk friend that her life has not been the greatest despite outwardly seeming so (she has fab creative job and night before was busy shagging a chef who owns some other restaurant and she's still only 30 and beautiful). I asked if she was going on holiday and she said she should head back to USA where father is dying of cancer but she doesn't feel like it on account of father having divorced her mother and left her as a young toddler... On top of that her beloved half brother died only a few years ago of a heroin overdose (a mistake, not suicide) in his college room at Uni. Then she miscarried with previous boyf who sounds like he's a nasty piece of work despite being very successful singer. The kind who constantly points out your failings. No wonder she had bulimia and a bit of anorexia. Felt like hugging her for a long time which no doubt forms part of the attraction as I seem to always say things that make perfect logical sense and are sensible to friends who somehow hanker after 'normal'. Oh dear. Poor baby B.


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