I've decided to jetison this century and go vintage.
Apropo of nothing I'm embracing the '30's. Not Hitler's bit of it obviously, or rationing for that matter (Good Lord: two entire sentences before you mentioned food: well done, Ed) but things like fashion and books and wearing what posh people used to call 'hets'.
It's all rather glamorous and dignified so I think it's My Thing.
I had a bit of a false start when I nearly spent part of my buying a new house money on a 1935 Humber that had been parked up in an episode of Poirot. 'Where would you get it serviced?' asked A Man Who Knows About Cars. 'And they don't take unleaded you know.'
Boring, but a good point. So I decided to set my sights a bit lower and look for a frock.
I emailed my friend Mrs H8 (so called for her fascination with The Most Exciting Of Kings) and told her I was hitting the interweb for outfits to turn me into Wallace Simpson. I knew she'd be keen as Living In The Wrong Decade is one of our best joint peculiarities.
'What do you think?' I wrote, pretending I was using a clickety typewriter rather than a laptop where the spacekeysticksduetosomejam. 'It'll be like being the Queen Mum (the Bonham Carter version, not the real one with the frightening teeth).We can wear hets and everything.'
'Hmm,' she replied. 'I think we're more likely to look like Victoria Wood in one of those dramas where she has a wraparound apron and makes her own lard.'
Mrs H8 can be realistic, if hurtful, at times.
But demmit, she was right. It turns out that due to malnutrition or the absence of Tesco, back in the day no one was fat.
I know. How depressing is that? You can't get any kind of a vintage frock if you have more than a 32 inch chest. And seeing as the last time I had that I had just joined The Brownies, things are looking quite grim.
Instead then, I've had to turn to that old Fatties' Staple - jewellery. It turns out that you can get no end of stuff (Would the correct word be 'tat'? Ed) for very little money. So I'm starting small but going to build up.
I think it's gone rather well.
Until just now, when I happened to see this:
It's only £6,000.
I'll get my coat. And obviously, my het.