Fashionista in England 1

Monday 30 March

We arrived in England. I stepped off the plane at Heathrow and breathed in the English air for the first time in my life. I smiled. Happy here. He held my hand. We kissed and entered his world. his best friend, Michael was there to meet him off the plane. Apparently posh men also did this as well as Italians. (Also posh women).

There was a chauffeur waiting to pick us up, Edward's. I was so excited I clapped my hands and jumped up and down.
"She's cute!" Michael commented, "Like a pony I once had."
Like a pony?! Were all posh blokes this mad?

We arrived.



This was Edward's palace, his castle, well - his dad's for now but it was, actually a castle!

I was so enthralled by it all. His butler, also called Edward, (this would be confusing) took my coat and suitcases. Edward showed us around. Michael made funny comments as we went, I couldn't stop giggling. I winked at him. I couldn't help it.

Edward tried to show me round his farm but I had high heels on. They got covered in mud. The beautiful, black things. I nearly got tripped over by a pig and a goat bit my coat to shreds right off my back! Not a good day.



Tomorrow I will try and find a fashion job. For now I am just going to try sleeping in my new bed. It is in Edward's spare room for the moment.

I could not get to sleep at all! Edward is slumbering, snoring - the pig! Though I don't know if pigs actually snore... They must do, they snort.

I had a hot cup of cocoa down stairs. Not the same as back home...



I phoned my brother for a chat. He was the only person I knew who would be up this late. My dad died years ago.
"So you've found your English prince charming at last, eh, Ruthie!"
"Shut up! Don't call me that!" I moaned, flapping my hand to bat away the comments even though he couldn't see me.
"You are a mad goose!" the shame, my own brother - calling me that!
Has anyone ever called you a mad goose? I thought not...

I searched through the local magazines for jobs and interviews, as well as the newspapers. It was 1.00 in the morning. My eyes were rubbed by my hands and I yawned. I headed to bed. At 7am in the morning apparently Edward yanked the magazine from my hand with full force that I had been gripping on the end of my floppy arm, hanging out the side of the bed.



I woke up and my mouth opened. I opened my eyes. My arms stretched diagonally to each side. I was in my jimjams, the lovely, fluffy teddy ones. It was 8.00am, Edward gave me a wee kiss and handed me a rack of toast and lovely, homemade, local, strawberry jam with locally churned butter. Mmm! he headed off to work after squishing me into a hug and kissing me again, again, again and again! I giggled as I pushed him out of the room.
"Go on! You're going to be late!" he over powered me and kissed me one last time.
"Just one last kiss," he smiled with me and kissed me again, a lot more this time.
"More please!" I ordered my love.
"LAter!" he winked, waved and left me.
All alone. In the big, cold house. Yikes. It was scary in here. I shuddered at the thought. (I won't tell you what one). Even Edward (the butler) was out golfing with his pals. Tuesday was his day off and he was old enough to retire but he was loyal to Edward as he had brought him up and his father before him.
I hadn't met Edward's dad yet but I heard I would that night at a dinner. It was very formal, apparently, Michael would be there (yay)! and Edward's ex (boo)! So I'd see them all then... what a picnic.