So today we went shopping, and my girl found this one. A pale pink faux-leather handbag big enough to fit her packed lunch box/school diary/pencil case/rain mac/purse/phone into. All the essentials.
She was utterly delighted with it. I swear that she was more thrilled with her cheap and cheerful shoulder bag than a reality star from The Only Way Is Essex would be with the latest Louis Vuitton.* (*Please note, I couldn’t name anyone from that show, and I had to Google ‘popular designer handbag brands’ to make that comment. I can tell you the name of the drummer in The Pogues, though, so I do know about important stuff).
We followed up our shopping expedition with a scheduled appointment with my daughter’s neuro-psychiatrist, where The Prof was duly amazed at her animated chit chat (my girl is normally a little shy with him). I explained that I didn’t think it was a sudden re-occurence of the extreme highs (part of her mild bi-polar type mood disorder that he has helped keep under control brilliantly over the past couple of years). “She’s just on a handbag high,” I explained. “Ah, my wife has those,” he nodded.
As if her day couldn’t get any better, I then took my glowing girl to Pizza Express for lunch, where a concerned waitress warned that my daughter’s order of Leggera (Light) Pollo Arrabbiata might be ‘too spicy for her’. My peri-peri, chilli, tabasco, reggae-reggae sauce-loving girl threw the woman some proper shade and pronounced: “That’s the POINT.”
But she hadn’t finished making me smile. I asked her if she wanted to go to the toilet before we left. She looked at me, earnestly, and answered in a flash: “Yes. I don’t want to wee in the street like a dog.”
Song is Shane MacGowan And The Popes - I'll Be Your Handbag. It's inappropriate and sweary. But that's the POINT.