Today is our 2nd anniversary; I can smell the romance in the air!
This is a lie.
What I can smell has been produced by husband, of which he seems fairly proud of. He’s left the room, with a mix of self revulsion and pride written across his face, and left me here typing in the only spot in the cottage my mobile internet can get a signal. Luckily, to hand I have a can of Impulse Romantic Spark body spray, so now the room is filled with a bouquet of au de cheap teen, trying to cover the smell of fag smoke on their clothes – and fart. It’s making me choke.
Today was going to be the day I followed the Impulse promotion. The plan was to go for a romantic lunch at the harbour (check the lean protein platter!), then hang out on the beach in the afternoon. According to Impulse, to make this even more romantic I needed to wear “retro sunglasses” - check, a “sharp sexy dress for summer day-to-night wear” (I included jeans so I didn’t flash any pensioners when cycling around) - check, “for extra sparkle” wear a bracelet –check, a slouchy bag to carry all my beauty essentials (Marie Claire has cruelly stripped me of all my beauty essentials and left me with a hooker pink lipstick and some blotting papers..THANKS!) – check, some “Chic sandals” so my pale gold gladiators got the gig, and last but not least “Pack a light everyday fragrance.” apparently is this is Impulse Romantic spark, what I will actually smell like is “fresh and gorgeous long after the day is over.” Not, as I suspect, like a teenage girl who can’t be bothered to shower after P.E.
Well the day is over, and husband (who has returned) has indeed confirmed that I smell “Fresh and gorgeous” and also “hairspray”. But then I am being compared to the smell that is still lingering in the air. It’s hardly a fair test.
We didn’t make it to the beach as it started to drizzle. Husband, my can of impulse and I ended up getting pretty pissed at lunch by the harbour. The restaurant also sold fresh fish, so I bought one for my lean protein tomorrow – stuffing it in my slouchy bag with my pink lipstick. We then managed to cycle all of about 20 meters to the next pub. Stayed there for a bit, drank cider, played travel scrabble, got more pissed then attempted to cycle home without raising suspicions that neither of us should really be in charge of a bicycle.
The evening consisted of us watching Fear And Loathing In Las Vagas, eating beans on (wheat free) toast and falling a sleep when the booze finally caught up with us. I had to take my “Sharp, Sexy dress” off and stick it in the wash because I got strawberry juice all over it. So it may not be the romantic fantasy sold to me in the advertorial, it was actually better than that – I had a lovely day with husband and I’m left armed with a can of sweet parma violet smelling bottom mace should he decide to go off again.
I’ve also included a picture mainly for Blondie’s benefit. It’s my breakfast yesterday, strawberries and chicken (lean protein with EVERY meal people). Blondie has the same attitude to sweet and savoury in the same meal, as I do to celery. It should be illegal.
