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Imagine them dumping the 12-inch bagful on the counter of the Red Cross shop with a mournful sigh, saying 'We just don't laugh together any more.'
I, however, was in the mood for love, because I found myself buying my first ever Barbara Cartland novel, enticingly called Journey To Paradise. I felt as though this was a female rite of passage that I was coming to embarrassingly late.
Also, it was only 80p. Although, considering the original price was 30p, I'm not sure it was the sound investment it initially appeared.
The opening page reveals something of the female peril ahead – '…he is an experienced husband. He will know how to deal with your somewhat exceptional qualities, Kamala' – but it also reveals a scathing review by a previous owner, expressed in brisk, dismissive and I would say rather mature strokes of biro…
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3 comments:
That is what I call penmanship. My only Cartland-style book, which I got given on a Valentine's Day, but so did everyone else in the cast of the Mills & Boon spoof I was acting in, is called 'Man of Power'.
All your posts make me smile like a child at the sound of the ice cream van. Thank you for being so brilliant in such small bites.
Thank you. What a nice thing to say. Though given the amount of ice cream I have eaten today, that analogy may be more appropriate than you realise.
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