Well hello You, I’ve missed you while I’ve been away madly dreaming up copy for clients, writing their pitches and dreaming up fresh new brands in the Lady Cave. Not that sort of Lady Cave, stop it; a Lady Cave is like a Man Cave but female.
‘Lady Cave,’ snort anyway, who the hell am I kidding? I have a small corner of the house dedicated to Lady Business; it’s called the bath. No one bothers me when I’m immersed; I can light a few candles, pour a glass of wine and lie in Sea Salt Soak and Mud Pack bliss like I did last Friday (and Saturday, and Sunday, if you must know).
If I really concentrate in there or turn Oprah’s meditation up real loud, I can drown out the FIFA commentary rollicking through the floorboards from the teenage retreat upstairs, and match it off with the golf /rugby/cycling commentary downstairs in the man cave across the hallway, you know, in a kind of white noise face-off.
Obviously, the golf /rugby/cycling commentary is self-explanatory. If you’re not familiar with FIFA however, it’s a PlayStation version of all the Soccer Leagues worldwide; you can buy and sell players, build your own teams, run up enormous debts on in-app purchases, and rule the world all with a virtual budget the size of a first-world country’s GDP. The play is all governed by a game theory algorithm explicitly designed by the propeller heads to suck you, the player, into a rolling gratification loop.
Truly, you thought ice cream was the source of instant gratification…..you total sucker. Try FIFA, it’s a complete rort on parents’ bank accounts and absolutely 100% designed to keep dopamine hits coming, and going, and coming again. I should add it MUST be played online with other players while wearing huge headphones like UFO saucers, designed specifically for gaming, and yelling in exaggerated disbelief into a microphone to your buddies like your Auntie Maude has just been found in the larder in her bra and lace undies, swigging the absinthe.
Seriously, living with four men is a riot and there are enormous benefits, boys rarely sook for long, they biff and it’s all over. No BFF handbag fights, only bruises from rugby, smelly socks, and lots. of. noise. I don’t think I was ever prepared for the NOISE!
To keep sane in a house full of boys, large doses of female company are needed, are you hearing me people? Thankfully my other half understands my raging need, kindly refereeing the FIFA and cooking kilos of sausages (and that’s just for afternoon tea) while I flee. There’s a sausage theme going down on this blog today; God knows why.
Lady time is essential for us women. When was the last time any of you took some, or pushed your own lady out of the door to get some?
Beyond the bath, which so help me God is mine alone, I can offer two escape venues for women in need of intelligent female company and self-care, ideally all at the same time.
- The Kitchen Table, champagne kissed conversations about money; how to manage it, make more of it and love the choice it creates.
The Kitchen Table is a monthly round-table light champagne supper for women, addressing some of the tougher financial questions about lending, risk, investing and generally getting your financial shit together. Bookings here.
- If something a little more low key and restful is the go, talk to me about a pamper session. I’ll supply the products and guide the evening; you provide the venue and bubbles.
Mothers Day – I have a plan up my sleeve for Mothers Day. If you’d like to buy a fabulous body pamper hamper for your Lady/Mum/Self to say thank you for EVERYTHING – message me your expression of interest and how much you’d like to spend. I’ll arrange a package of Swiss heritage premium luxury cosmetics from Arbonne, gift wrapped and delivered the first week in May to an address of your choice with optional bottle of wait for it…. champagne.
More details to come shortly, but I’m happy to take early orders or discuss options in the meantime so you can tick the box.
And falling straight back to earth, as I write, I recall the youngest boy went into the bathroom some time ago and has yet to emerge. I’d better go see if he’s ok, you know, just in case he’s fallen into the toilet bowl or worse, has hijacked my bath.