I’ve got a fitbit thingy, courtesy of my health insurers. It monitors sleep quality among other things (it seems I manage about 6 hours of “good” sleep most nights, with another two hours of restless sleep depending on how long I’m in bed). And there is a definite deterioration in sleep quality if I have red wine…as I have done the past two nights, when I’ve been out for dinner with either Dad and N, or my friend S.
S and I went to the Telegraph Shopping evening at Fenwicks. It was lovely. I’ve discovered a new range of dresses (Goat), bought some expensive tights (I am so fed up with tights that bobble – and, it seems that while 15-16 year olds are all enormously tall nowadays, their tights are not long enough for my legs, so I bought some thick Falke tights as an experiment), and S bought some makeup brushes. We discussed shoes and had a general gossip about mutual friends in a very friendly manner (R seems to have settled, and we’re both loving the baby photos on FB). All terribly civilised: there were jazz singers on each floor. We just missed the prize There was mulled wine (I do like mulled wine).
Tuesday saw us at The Art of the Brick. It was rather good – but chilly, and deserted. Dad and I both found that it was far more fun looking at some of the exhibits without our glasses on, as blocky pictures turned into something very clever indeed when viewed from a couple of feet away and a focal length of 6 inches. This is one of the reasons that I refuse things such as laser eye surgery.
I’m onto the front of the Christmas Party Sweater. Why did I think a sweater in Kidsilk Night on UK 10s was a good idea?