Ralph Oswick: Age before beauty
Irecently bought some expensive moisturiser. On the tube it says ‘Combats aging. Results in thirty minutes.’ This was three days ago and I’m still waiting.
I have to look fresh and youthful for the new season, as despite dodgy knees (how can a plastic knee ache?) and even dodgier back, my ageless alter-ego Lady Margaret will be making a select few appearances this spring. By ‘select few’ I mean when she gets paid to show her face. And that face must of course be flawless.
Lady M is real to many people and one doesn’t want to look like a wizened old man in a frock on the Chronicle society pages.
Ribbons cut and ships launched by the way. Mingling a speciality. But no more freebies from that grande dame.
Those extra-large support stockings cost the earth. And then there’s limo hire and glove maintenance to add to the expenses.
Mind, if the organiser of May’s Larkhall Bake-off is now panicking, don’t worry, we (Royal we) know we are being paid in cake.
To this end, I have ordered some new shoes. Her Ladyship skidded unseemingly around on the wet lawn on her last appearance, having developed a wobbly heel on her favourite footwear.
The ladies’ extra-wide sensible shoes on the Cosy Feet website fit both Lady M and me, and being diabetic and arthritic, one is VAT exempt where wide fitting footwear is concerned.
Being old and infirm does have its advantages.
I chose a particularly natty pair of floral flatties (no more kitten heels for this aged cool cat) and imagine my surprise when I checked out.
The model I had chosen is called
The Margaret! I could have so easily gone for the tan version, which is known as The Audrey. But Audrey sounds a bit dull. So, Margaret it is. And I’m looking out for the postie with great excitement.
As well as assuring a flawless complexion, I also need to lose a bit round the waist.
Not that Lady M actually has a waist. More like an equator.
I have all the frocks lined up in my wardrobe but as the last gig approached, only one still fitted. Trust me, I tried them all.
I got a bit hot and sticky as the choices dwindled.
Some of the dresses are made from sturdy unyielding furnishing fabric (her look has been compared to an over-stuffed 1950s sofa) and me stuck half in and half out is not a sight I would wish to impose on a helpful friend. It’s a lonely job sometimes!
Luckily, my flat didn’t catch fire during the exercise.
Imagine the rescuing firefighter’s face when confronted by a panicking and slightly singed bundle of chintz!
Plenty of time to make myself cake-ready you might say, but Bath Comedy Festival, of which Lady M is Patron, raises its hilarious head very shortly.
In fact, the VIP and sponsors’ canapes and bubbly launch is this week. I’m not sure if I’m attending that salubrious gathering as myself or my other self.
It’s a choice between a frock that won’t zip up and a tuxedo that won’t button.