Patsy and Edwina – An Abfab Moment Travelling Back From London

Have you been to Canary Wharf?  It’s like New York only cleaner and full of close shaven, thin, elegantly suited, euro-men – it’s like walking through an Armani Advertisement.  If I were looking for a new man I would hang out in Canary Wharf – a dating tip.  How I have missed these types of men.  The local farmers here wear the Swiss version of Chairman Mao’s blue uniform.  Practical I concede but most unbecoming and not very supportive in the nether regions…

We make it out to City Airport and settle in at the bar.  The flight is delayed so we have a glass of wine, as you do, and reminisce about our lovely four days sans husbands and sans children and decide that The Platinum Programme is only the beginning.  We hatch a plan to do this more often.  We could go through all the gems: diamond; amber; emerald; basically anything that glitters and comes out of the ground until we were at least 80 years old.  Probably still not any further than a rough and ready pitch and a first draft of a book but boy would we have had a blast! 

Our flight is still delayed so a second glass of wine arrives and then it is BOARDING! BOARDING! so we down the second at speed.  I am suddenly tapped on the shoulder by Rolf, Lexi’s godfather, who claims he recognized my laugh from all the way over the other side of the lounge.  We walk together towards the gate.  As he heads off for the business end of plane V. says,

“Send us a glass of champagne.”

He sends over a bottle. We get a few extra glasses and share with the poor girl who has the misfortune to be placed next to me by the window and to give to Super Dad sitting with his young kids in the row in front of us.  Super Dad turns into a potential client for V. who must be suffering from the altitude as she is getting strangely louder and more effusive than usual.  Super dad’s children are looking worried.

We land after what I swear is only a five minute flight.  We navigate the “oh oh steps” and manage not to fall over on the walking escalator.  For some reason, but most likely because Mr Jules is waiting, I get out my blusher and large brush and start powdering my face all over with Guerlain’s terracotta in public! Right there on the escalator!  A man in a pink jumper walks by and says,

 ”As if that will make any difference.”

Note to man in pink jumper travelling on Swiss out of London City on Monday 19 October at 2035: THAT COLOUR LOOKS DODGY ON YOU.

V. looks back then says,

“Try to walk straight that’s a potential client of mine behind…hhhheeeeee hhheeeee hheeeee heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

Rolf you have redeemed yourself (you know what I mean) in a chic and generous manner and thanks to you we had an absolutely fabulous time.

Copyright Jules Ritter May 2008