Contrary to popular belief that we are uncouth, obese, benefit-dependent ladies -- procreating to literally 'bump' our way up the council house list (and unashamedly using several sires to do so), I want to make something very plain about being pretty.
Northern women are very glamorous.
And that's glamorous with a big-tousled capital G.
I have found my relocation from the 'moneybelt' SouthEast to be quite intimidating in this regard. Let me take you through a typical day in my seemingly unprepossessing coastal town which has far more in common with my-my mademoiselles than you might think ...
0845: The Schoolgate Senoras
All the latest fashions, full make-up before the caffiene has kicked-in.
A bounty of beauties.
1000: The Arrival of the Domestic Goddess
Here comes the housekeeper -- all 5ft 8 dynamism-in-a-d-cup! With stories of drama and dances in her wake she uses a body that Giselle would die-for to power around the house sorting out the family's detritus and various unrepeatable doggy disasters without a blink of a false-eyelashed eye. (Clearly 'Pam' deserves an extra-long paragraph here for commitment to the cause, because next to GrannyNanny she is the most important person in my life to keep onside as without her the entire setup would unravel.)
A cacophony of capability.
1400: The Car-Park Countess
Bump into pal while parking at the local garden centre, deluding myself that Hunters and no-mascarra is perfectly acceptable when collecting compost. No. Even regaling torrid tales of house-moving ... one of the most lamentable of life's occasions ... she is perfectly turned-out. Not a hair out of place, no sign of raised blood pressure from the situational stress is affecting her silky skin.
A pulchritudinous perfection.
1600: The Super Singer
Emailed by friend about organising a Spring Ball. I know that on the other end of the keypad-cyberspace-relationship there taps a perfectly manicured hand, owned by a charismatic, ever-calm Supermum who is artful dealing with any situation and always appropriately-accessorized to boot.
A diplomatic diva.
2000: The Literary Lovelies
Surrounded by women who are super-fit, funky and funny. And every single one of them has fantastic hair. Just not fair.
The heavenly hirsutes.
The link between them all -- it's the hair. No doubt about it. This truly is a county of crowning glory -- which makes my frizzle-drizzle apology of a mop seek out a decent hat. I noticed it quite early on. The women UpNorth have seriously smashing styles, fabulous follicles, and ne'er a bad hair day in sight. And they make no apologies for keeping up appearances. There are 13 hairdressers in just 4 streets in this town and during my (pathetic) annual trip to the salon I ask the owner how they have the time and the money to always be perfectly coiffured? The answer -- "women here would rather get up at 6am and go without food before they go without getting their hair done!".
I shuffle out, head held low in shame.
I read somewhere that hair is the only thing that you wear everyday so it be the item you spend the most on. Note to self: if I don't want to be hair-today, cast-out tomorrow then the just-dried, colour-gone, kooky look just won't cut it up here!
