blog -->, Women, Children, Jonny Wilkinson
Pink nail varnish and other routes to happiness
During the rugby world cup last year I had an idea for a book called ‘How to seduce Jonny Wilkinson and other routes to happiness’. It was a book looking at what makes women happy, how we can be happier and so on.
Obviously I have no idea how to seduce Jonny Wilkinson (short of dressing up as a rugby ball and hurling myself over some posts) but that was to be what publishers call the “narrative arc”. On my quest to eternal happiness I would set out to achieve what most of the females (and some males) in England wanted to do at the time.
My agent didn’t like it. I mean she liked the idea, but she doesn’t fancy Jonny Wilkinson. So we opted for something that perhaps more women can relate to; pink nail varnish. And this morning I realised how right she was (although the book never did get written, the publisher didn’t like the idea, or pink nail varnish).
I sat on my bed after two weeks of interrupted nights due to the mosque outside my window, around me the children wailed, and fought, and argued and yelled. I reflected on the previous day when I had spent all my time trying to secure a flat that fell through at the last minute. I thought about the day ahead when I would have to find some way of keeping the children from murdering each other and all the horrible admin chores I need to get to grips with but just can’t muster up the energy to begin.
In my hand I had a bottle of pink nail varnish. ‘Violet’ it is called, from M&S since you ask. Slowly I opened the lid and began to paint my nails. The glossy, fuscia pink (more than violet) colour slid onto my toe-nails effortlessly, like a lump of melting butter on a piece of warm toast. I finished one nail and was pleased with the result. The children came and yelled at me.
“Go away please,” I said, Zen-like, without even looking up from my shiny toes. “I am painting my nails.”
Miraculously they did go away. I painted the remaining nails. At the end of it, I felt so much better. And my nails looked so much chirpier than before. Which I guess might be part of the reason why I felt better.
Whatever, I am happy, and I have not even met Jonny Wilkinson.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008
27 Aug 2008 helena
This is amazing! I was searching google blogsearch for blog with info on nail painting for a blog post I want to do on the soothing ability of painting your nails and your blog post comes up.
Maybe it’s luck that brought your post up, as it relates very directly to the subject (cheering yourself up with a coat of polish) I’m going to write on.
Thank you for writing it and please check my blog in a couple of days to see the post, with a link here.
Thanks again!
x
easyopensmiles.blogspot.com
Surely you mean “narrative arc”? although I like the sound of a narrative ark, particularly when it’s raining a lot.
Good point, have changed it, thanks sub….
Hx
This wonderful wet summer is not exactly uplifting, however, putting some wonderfully pink nail varnish on your toes definitely puts a smile on my face. Maybe it’s the expectation that the sun may come out and that your feet will look soooo much better for it when they can finally be put on display!