Rose from a deep cider-induced coma on Sunday morning and as I stumbled, semi-consciousness, towards the kettle I spotted this on the kitchen side. As I predicted a few days earlier on writing the 'A beautiful day, the pièce de résistance of the Full English' piece, I followed the smell of a reheated take-away and found one of my fellow housemates lounging on the settee with a plate of cheesy garlic bread slices.
Sophie spent a good few hours in front of the mirror the previous evening pulling ridiculous facial expressions as she painted her face with foundation, different shades of rouge and scratched pencils across her eyes and lips in an attempt to emulate that 'red carpet' look for the 'big girlie night out'. Now, as she snuggles under the duvet with her cheesy garlic bread, her face looks like a cross between The Cure's Robert Smith and a panda, overnight her hair has changed from a structured style to a Tim Burtonesque Helena Bonham Carter 'Demon Barber of Fleet Street' Mrs Lovet look.
"Had a restless night? Bad dreams?", I innocently enquire,.....she responds with a grunt.
No comments:
Post a Comment