Thursday, 24 January 2013

269: Double Ditto

The accident changed everything and I decided I’d never settle for less again.  Ten weeks in traction with a broken hip gives a girl plenty of time to evaluate every aspect of her life.  I stood up a different person than the one who got in a car and was side-smashed by a runaway van with a broken handbrake.

Let me explain what I mean.  Ice cream.  I love raspberry swirl.  Luxury vanilla, ditto.  Phish food, double ditto.  And I only ever choose phish food.  Girls’ night out drinks.  G & T is great.  Margaritas, ditto.  Mojitos, double ditto.  So, Mojitos it is.

My new list of ‘things I like’ includes Finest sticky toffee pudding, Per Una stockings, Mexican food, any fragrance by Chanel, blurays, Pepsi Max, the iPad 4, MAC make-up, avocados, Michael Kors sunglasses, Waitrose pasta, HD television, hand ground coffee, Cross ballpoints, classical music, car-sharing, literary fiction, freshly squeezed orange juice, Victoria’s Secret underwear and miniature schnauzers.

My old list included value ranges, BOGOFs, poundshops, orange squash, frozen peas, Bics, Avon, hand-me-downs, hand-me-ups, greying supermarket knickers, plastic carrier bags, chicken in all its forms, plain popcorn and Mills & Boon.

I also left Denny off my new list.  He was strictly old list, very much raspberry swirl or gin and tonic.  He was very nice, still is I’m sure.  But as I lay there, my eyes slurring from the pain and the drugs, I waited for him to come and he didn’t.  Not until the final whistles had been blown and scores from all four leagues declared.  He might have come before the Scottish leagues, but I’m not sure.

I want someone who is finest and classical and freshly squeezed and hand ground.  More important, I want them to think I’m all those things too.  That I’m high def, sharp edged, the perfectly manicured word, exotic and familiar at once, luxury and accessible, calorie-free and full of chocolately bits. 

I choose to wait for someone who thinks I’m double ditto.

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