Road Tripping and False Lashes
After a night in London, David and I hired a car (with a malfunctioning Sat Nav) and drove down to Worcestershire for a friend's Rio de Janeiro themed 50th.
Both highways and smaller country roads in the UK are near impossible to navigate. What should have taken us 3 hours took 5. However, it was lovely weather and it gave us plenty of time for day-dreaming and the what-if game. What if in 5 years we were doing this.. What if in 5 years you were... and I could....
We arrived quite late in the afternoon and the woman who owned the b&b told us the other guests staying there had already gone onto the party. We asked her what they were wearing in the way of costumes. "Nothing special," she replied, adding that they had left early to set up the cocktail bar. After hearing that we chickened out of our costumes.
We had planned on wearing blue face paint and Native American Indian feather head-dresses. It was the closest thing to Brazilian costumes the Kinkerstraat could offer. As we jumped in the cab, I pocketed two pairs of false eyelashes, just in case.
The party was held in a tiny village hall at the top of a rocky country road, pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Outside the sun dipped towards an endless horizon of rolling green fields and inside a handful of kids were rocking it on the dance floor under a ceiling of golden balloons.
As more guests arrived we decided our costumes wouldn't have been a terrible idea. I produced the false eyelashes from my purse and promptly glued David's left eye shut with the adhesive glue. As we contemplated a trip to Accident & Emergency, a professional make-up artist arrived and saved us from any further amateur prosthetics applications.
Our eyelashes were fabulous. David had a sweeping blue pair that looked fetching with his beard and I had some with pearls at the tip of every lash. They were an excellent conversation starter and made us way more social than either of us usually are. Combined with a fair few cocktails, we were unstoppable. Well, unstoppable until 12.30 when my dancing shoes got the better of me and I began to dance sitting down in a chair, which I think is a good sign that it's time to go home.
Both highways and smaller country roads in the UK are near impossible to navigate. What should have taken us 3 hours took 5. However, it was lovely weather and it gave us plenty of time for day-dreaming and the what-if game. What if in 5 years we were doing this.. What if in 5 years you were... and I could....
We arrived quite late in the afternoon and the woman who owned the b&b told us the other guests staying there had already gone onto the party. We asked her what they were wearing in the way of costumes. "Nothing special," she replied, adding that they had left early to set up the cocktail bar. After hearing that we chickened out of our costumes.
We had planned on wearing blue face paint and Native American Indian feather head-dresses. It was the closest thing to Brazilian costumes the Kinkerstraat could offer. As we jumped in the cab, I pocketed two pairs of false eyelashes, just in case.
The party was held in a tiny village hall at the top of a rocky country road, pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Outside the sun dipped towards an endless horizon of rolling green fields and inside a handful of kids were rocking it on the dance floor under a ceiling of golden balloons.
As more guests arrived we decided our costumes wouldn't have been a terrible idea. I produced the false eyelashes from my purse and promptly glued David's left eye shut with the adhesive glue. As we contemplated a trip to Accident & Emergency, a professional make-up artist arrived and saved us from any further amateur prosthetics applications.
Our eyelashes were fabulous. David had a sweeping blue pair that looked fetching with his beard and I had some with pearls at the tip of every lash. They were an excellent conversation starter and made us way more social than either of us usually are. Combined with a fair few cocktails, we were unstoppable. Well, unstoppable until 12.30 when my dancing shoes got the better of me and I began to dance sitting down in a chair, which I think is a good sign that it's time to go home.
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