|Small in stature, big in personality :-)|
In Girl's front room there are an unruly row of legs. Fake tan on a mitted hand makes bold strokes.
'Is that too streaky?' Girl peers.
Someone fetches another jug of Pimms, and there's a false lash re-gluing session going on in a bedroom splattered with beauty debris.
'I googled it,' says the lady in the leopard print dress, of the look they are seeking for this evening's theme. 'Lots of black eyeliner.'
Outside it rains, which is the sworn enemy of glammed up hair. An arsenal of hairspray is lined up.
'Are we doing your hair Mum?' Girl's friends ask in a kind of chorus. When Girl was only very small her and a gang of friends would frequently paint my face in unwittingly whorish glitter, tangle elastic bands in my hair. It was scoops of hooting fun.
I take a plastic cup of the Pimms and sit under the hairspray. I'm all ready laughing.