Wednesday, 11 April 2007

Twinkle Toes

I was sitting in the garden with the kids this afternoon, enjoying a picnic. Before you picture one of those ‘lifestyle’ catalogue scenarios where we are all dressed in white cotton, and eating home made quiche off Cath Kidston plates, I ought to qualify the term ‘picnic.’ The food consisted of a couple of mouldy cheese sandwiches and a few bags of crisps, with a carton of tartrazine-rich orange drink each. The defining factor, though, was that we were sitting on an outdoor rug. Therefore, we were technically having a picnic. I have recently made the seismic shift into flip-flops on account of the lovely weather, so I stretched my legs out on the rug towards my son. The expression on his face can only be described as abject revulsion, as he regarded my newly-emancipated toes. At first, I thought it could just be an understandable reaction to the cheese sandwiches, but no, apparently the taste of mouldy cheese was nothing compared to the sight of my hooves. Eventually, he cleared his throat and asked me in his most polite voice if I would mind moving my feet away from him, as they were putting him off his food. I would like to be indignant about this, but unfortunately he does have a point - they do look rather reptilian. Therefore, I have decided to tackle my own pedicure tonight. For someone who used to be very high maintenance, this is a bitter pill to swallow. In a previous life, I had well-tended toes and luscious acrylic fingernails with tips so white they looked like they had been dipped in Tippex. They were absolutely rock hard, and if anyone needed to take a door off its hinges, I was the woman for the job. Sitting back in a comfy lounger every month, leafing idly through glossy magazines while someone made your fingers and toes pretty, was hard to beat. Ah, memories......
Anyway, I have a bottle of Mâcon-Villages Chardonnay (£4.99 Ocado) chilling in the fridge which is crisp, peachy and unoaked, and should keep me company tonight. H is out until late, which is good, since I reckon that the ‘secrets of the boudoir’ should remain just that. I’m not sure that watching someone clip their toenails is conducive to great marital relationships (but then neither are scaly feet). A home pedicure isn’t quite the pampering experience of a nail salon, but I can think of one advantage – I was never offered a glass of wine at the salon.

7 comments:

The Grocer said...

We trained our son to tickle feet from birth, kids have to be good for something.

rilly super said...

lighting: subdued, music: mood setting, wine:chilled - Are you planning to clip your toenails tonight or get them to propose to you drunkmummy?

spymum said...

Ah, the warm summer days always bring out a rash of gnarly feet!

The sun came out (I hid my feet) and then I home-pedicured mine in a fetching shade of tangerine that very evening (I didn't want to scare my pedicure guy!).

However, I can confirm that painting one's toe nails after a large glass of Chablis is a surprisingly difficult task!!

mutterings and meanderings said...

And then you must paint your toenails blue ...

dulwichmum said...

I had a chiropodist for a flat mate for a while, and he was a very useful boy to know - although he would regularly object as he had not been trained to carry out pedicures. I didn't mind a jot that he hadn't been trained to pain nails, I mean, he wasn't a trained chef either and I regularly compelled him to cook my supper...

Drunk Mummy said...

Grocer and Dulwich Mum, I am impressed with your delegating skills - I need to get H and the kids to contribute a bit more.

M&M - I spent a large part of last summer with a blue nail on my big toe, after I dropped the kitchen bin on it. That would have been the perfect solution!

Spymum, you are absolutely right about the painting - its not the straightest I've ever done. Still, the chardonnay is going down a treat.

Rilly - If I drink the rest of this bottle, and they DO propose, I might just accept.

Stay at home dad said...

I've had to have an extra glass of Riesling just to cope with these images...