Sellotape

Ever since I was a teenager, my mother has provided me with a sealed envelope containing a crisp new £5 note to tuck into the pocket of every new handbag I have owned. Brenda says;

"a lady must always carry emergency cash in case she needs a cab to get her out of trouble!"

I laughed when mother did this again only recently.

"Look Mother, please don't bother. I have an Oyster card, and £5 will not pay for a cab anywhere today".

Brenda always insists that she be allowed to "handsel" every new handbag in this manner, it is a family tradition and her special little ritual. I still have every single envelope she has given me over the years, and until today, all remained unopened. Every one dog eared, old and torn, some smelling of perfume no longer available, others smeared with traces of cerise pink 1980's lipstick and long forgotten telephone numbers written with smudged eye liner.

The sellotape seal remains in tact on all but one. I always feared that if Brenda noticed a seal had been tampered with, I would be forced to explain to her the exact nature of any emergency. I never ever used the cash to pay for an extra drink, or buy some magazine I could not find the change for - the envelopes were strictly for emergency use only.

This afternoon I crossed Lambeth Bridge on foot with the Big Boss (BB) in order to attend a meeting. He insisted that exercise was required;

"good for our constitutions and environmentally responsible".

It was rather gusty by the river today, and I really was not prepared for the elements in my light silk knee length dress and box jacket. I always feel so awkward when alone with BB, he makes me feel inarticulate, inadequate and a complete air head.

I was walking rather briskly (in my red patent Louboutin peep toe wedges) while BB chugged along not far behind me. Suddenly a young girl in front of us had her ugly acrylic smock dress blown virtually inside out by the wind. I tried to maintain my composure while BB laughed loudly in the manner of a Harrods Santa Claus on crack cocaine. His behaviour could only be described as shameful.

It was actually rather funny, but as I tell the darling children it is simply NOCD to laugh at the mis-fortune of others. The unfortunate girl was wearing dreadful chewing gum grey coloured cheap underwear and no slip! How very embarrassing for her. Vast expanses of the flesh on her bottom cheeks had the appearance of orange peel! Cellulite is clearly the most dreadful affliction for some.

Suddenly the wind took my skirt and made every effort to lift it to my waist!!! Much to my relief BB didn't initially acknowledge the occurrence. When we had almost reached the other side of the bridge he announced:

"I do like to see a nice pair of Aubade lace knickers on a girl."

My facial expression turned to stone.

"Well this is only mid-week work wear Mr Hargreaves, I save the La Perla and Agent Provocateur for the weekends," I replied.

When our meeting was over, I immediately summoned a cab. BB objected and insisted the fare would not be paid for from his budget.

"You may join me in my cab if you wish" I said,

"I have a budget for exactly this sort of eventuality", tearing open my brown envelope.

On the journey by black cab back across the river, BB sulked and sat bolt upright gazing out the window, in search of poor unprepared females exposed by the weather, no doubt. What a dreadful old devil!

It is hard to admit, but it was worth all the years of carrying small brown sellotaped envelopes in the inside pocket of my various bags for that one occasion...

My mother is indeed a wonderful wise woman.

Did I tell you I will be forty years old this year?