There is an air of restlessness blowing through town. The summer never came, and we have been left with dull, humid and rainy days. The stocks are over, and we wait impatiently for the dahlias, crab apples, and rosehips, the back to school signs in shops and the the pull of a new pencil case.
The glorious twelfth is just days away, and soon it will be Burghley. Before that there are one or two or six weddings, a scarlet dress to find and a decision to make.
Also a gentleman has suggested that if i wish to pitch to The Telegraph, I should do so with this tag line....
Miss P, like Sarah Raven but in sluttier shoes.
Are you racking your brains? It's wishing i was lucky....WetWetWet