Sat on disgustingly early commuter train returning from the capital. Feeling blogger nostalgia, the need to write, rant and generally express an opinion. Hence the following rabble of pros.
Since my last post, much has occurred. Life resembles that of a Japanese bullet train. A Japanese bullet train with a penchant for innovative marketing activations, apparel one cannot afford and running in increasingly painful patent Penny Loafers.
After escaping the parental nest in favour of over-priced, yet suitably glam city living, one has started to wonder if handing over almost half (an exaggeration but essential to the point) of monthly budget to landlord is ethically stable. Landlord must be revelling in the cash of young marketing execs. Wonder if landlord is single. Strike that, landlord is 55+ and talks only of efficiency of New Fridge-Freezer combo and need to ensure direct debit of rent payment.
Feel writing style has been inspired by upcoming release of third Bridget Jones novel, in which am told Mark Darcy is no-longer. Deep inhale..WTF. Irresponsible storytelling if I ever I saw it, to kill off the symbol, in which reasonably successful women worldwide pin their emotional stability. My god, Match.com prepare for an onslaught. Grocers ready the provisions (Diet Coke, Percy Pigs, Teaser Bars, Sweet & Salter M&S popcorn). Male convenience staff nationwide, refraine from Friday/Saturday evening purchasing commentary "So night in for one (looking down at tub of ice cream and share bag of M&Ms)...". I repeat, REFRAIN.
On other hand, femanity may survive. One has potentially impressive occupation, excellent collection of handbags (thank you designer-aware parents), strong grasp of calorie content in Pret a Manger lunch options and stellar collection of appropriately hip pals. Phew.
Note to self: Pre-9am moments of self-evaluation involuntarily lead to increased heart rate, dull throbbing around the temples and most essentially interrupt reading of latest issue of Elle. Prognosis, best avoided.