I think back in 1930’s Leeds, there was a HUGE fuck off amount of free concrete on the go and Leeds took the lot and built shed loads of shed like buildings, slap bang in the centre. I have never seen a soul-less, culture-less looking city like this in my life, YET on the way here we passed beautiful wee villages and places that were positively picturesque! Poor Leeds…don’t hate me, but I love architecture and it has such a dire drought of them.
My husband went out early this morning to walk around town and on his arrival I asked him "What’s the place like?" He smiled and said "The 1970s"
So there we are, I did love their art gallery though and that was a good wee oasis in the middle of concrete world.
I put on loads of make up tonight, as those pictures of me in The Red Magazine, photo shoot did look colourful and maybe I don’t make the most of skin products, but my husband simply smiled as I asked him if I had too much make up on. As if he is really going to comment on my skin care regime, I may have well have asked him “Please describe my period pains in the form of physical theatre and dance”.
Like all intelligent men, he nodded and said I love your hair like that “I wasn’t asking about my hair” I baulked. “Sorry you look nice all over” He added, managing to cover all sensitive areas about my appearance. Bless him.
Can’t be easy being my husband. I am a nasty bitch and deserve to be shot like a horse at times. Tomorrow I will be good and lovely. I promise.