Friday, December 23, 2005

No. 7, taking to my heels and how we laughed.

1. The smell of No. 7 lippy, because it makes me feel as if I look beautiful.

2. The extra height from high heels.

3. Laughing at the poem Chris wrote to mark his leaving the company until my eye-makeup was quite ruined.

Salt, appointment and looking out.

1. A man from a white van is trundling and scraping a red plastic grit spreader around the car park, which has been an ice rink these last f...