A taste of the Life the Gardener's Wife Aspires to...

This is going to sound sooooo dreadful, but before I get into it, I have to swear that this is completely uncommon... in fact, it's very nearly unique, like the Bosin-Higgs particle (I probably spelled that wrong!). Okay, here goes.... last Saturday, Andrew went off to work in the garden of a fabulous friend in Leeds... and I met 'the girls' (including self-same fabulous friend) for a 'power lunch' at Harvey Nichols (Leeds) followed by a few laps in the delightfully bijou food court, and spent £8 on strawberry florentines for his nibs. (In this scenario, Fereday has to be 'his nibs', I'm afraid.... it's just too up market - maybe 'gratin', eh Phil? - for his usual moniker.) I even wore good make-up! Of course you have to, it's only fair... on meeting up with the girls, there's the usual greeting consisting of a kiss on each cheek... basically, free blusher time... and if they're all giving you a dollop of Mac, Estee Lauder, SpaceNK, etc.,... then you can't reasonably return the favour with a smear of Sainsbury's Own Brand.I had a thoroughly lovely day of it. The train over to Leeds (aka 'Shed on Rails') was the usual smelly 35 minutes, but the weather was lovely, views great... and some tremendous wit has added a fantastic piece of graffitti to a wall which you can see just after you leave Bradford Interchange. It says, "Phone in Sick!" Considering that this is a busy commuter line, I think that's a fairly mean (though funny) thing to do. The poor sods are already on the train by the time they see it. The journey was only slightly marred by my luggage... four loaves of spelt bread from a health food shop in Halifax which had been ordered by the fabulous friend, but which Fereday had forgotten to load into the car to take over to her in the morning. It was so heavy... I still don't know whether she was planning on eating the stuff or using it as part of a weight-training programme.Leeds is so sartorially interesting. On the march up from the station lugging the bread, I found that I was accompanied by my mother... the internal monologue sounding extremely nasal and consisting of phrases which she originated: "Have you LOOKED in a mirror?"; "I wonder if her parents know she's out dressed like that?"; and "Oh honey, those shoes just don't go with that hat." Seriously though, for what climate are Ugg boots with blue tights (those Ting-Tings people have alot to answer for), denim short shorts, a linen-look camisole top, THE WRONG BRA(!!!!), holey swirly patterned cardigan, baseball cap, sunglasses and just far too many pseudo-ethnic jewelery items appropriate?????? I know, the answer is no-where... except Leeds that Saturday afternoon and I'm getting old and turning into my mother. Jokes on Fereday, though... looks like he married my mother!!! There are only two periods in your life when you can dress like that - when you're 16 and when you're 80. (Can't wait for 80!!!!)Harvey NickNaks was its usual lovely self... lots of orange ladies on the ground floor around the handbags and make-up counters. The usual late middle-aged Hyacinth Bucket lady with bored-looking, golf-attired husband looking at something completely inappropriate to the bemusement of the bright young things which make half-hearted attempts to act as shop assistants... this time it was a pair of ferociously high, 'hooker heels' complete with voluminous matching handbag in blood red patent leather displayed in a glass showcase on the 3rd floor... and Hyacinth was asking for a size 6! That golfing giffer is in for the fright of his life if he buys Hyacinth those... hoped his angina pills perscription was close at hand! The shoes were really, really, really, really beautiful, but likely to lead to a terrible ankle injury - unless you kept them in the glass case, of course.Up to the restaurant, I was first of the group to arrive... and here I get as close to footballers' wives as this gardener's wife can do.... it was the same chef on duty as when Andy worked there years ago... exchange a smile with chef, a quick comment to the maitre d'.... "It's nice to see XXXXX is still here, he used to work with my husband...." and, hey presto, big table in the middle of the room.... lovely. So you see, Fereday at work in a garden, while simultaneously (albeit he was unaware of doing so) securing his missus the best table in the room. Pretty amazing, isn't he?

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