In the next few weeks, the Sunday Guardian intends to explore the promises made by the Government and look into the extent to which those promises have been kept.
You are here
Elsa’s life notes for any occasion
“Sorry to say this,’’ the manicurist said, not the least bit reluctantly. “But it’s age.’’
Stupidly, I had asked why, despite her regular ministrations, my hands were looking like I had clawed my way out of a dungeon. I expected to hear I was allergic to the nail varnish or something equally dramatic, because opinionistas need a certain amount of drama to write about.
Instead, the divinity that shapes my ends (to steal a line from Dorothy Parker) gave me a shrug and very little sympathy.
If I had known that my once indestructible nails would turn to tissue paper, I would have taken up the piano years ago, just so my younger, prettier fingertips could have had more play.
I filed the information under Life Note No 53.
Here are the first 52.