Nails.

Lady blippers may be surprised to hear that in all the many decades of my life I have never had a manicure nor attended a nail salon. My fingernails are primarily tools for opening snap-top lids, prising tablets from strips, and opening parcels and envelopes. Though I have become aware that nail decoration has become the norm, having seen many tourists sporting creations they have paid a fortune for to look good on holiday, I have still never been tempted. Today I yielded to pressure to have something done for the wedding next week, and my younger daughter, with whom I’m staying, paid for me to go to a nail salon. I opted for nothing outrageous, just a pearlescent pink with golden overtones which is baked on in some contraption after being smoothed with something like a miniature Dremel sander and several coats of something gloopy applied. I felt quite out of place in there - all the customers were heavily tattooed, pierced, and wearing false eyelashes like Denis Healy’s eyebrows and elaborate hair extensions. Why put yourself through all that in your 20s when you’re naturally beautiful anyway? Maybe it’s just Leeds. Later my daughter went for a hair appointment, also pre-wedding bridesmaid prep, and her treatment took twice as long because a young woman customer next to her burst into tears and slid to the floor, where she continued to howl inconsolably because her boyfriend hadn’t replied to her text. The highlight of the day however was the glorious fish, chips and mushy peas for tea from our favourite chippy. It was going to be my blip but I forgot in the excitement and just wolfed it down. Hence just the nails.