Summary
WEEK SIX: Here's how it happened. I was running late for a do. Not just any old do, but a formal do: one that requires a proper dress, drop-dead earrings and several practice runs at saying Ma'am (to rhyme with Pam, apparently) in case you're introduced to a certain member of the Royal Family during the course of the evening.
I had dressed for this swanky evening function at the office, and only at the last minute - with hideous, slow-motion horror - realised I'd left my invite at home. In a state of panic, I called a taxi and raced back to the house to get it. By the time I pulled up outside the hotel, I was afraid I was so late that they wouldn't let me in. "At least," I thought as I leapt out of the cab, "thanks to those gruelling workouts, I can get away with this frock."See the full content of this document
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Tantrums and Trainers
And it is at that precise moment that I fell. Hard. Heel over toe, landing all my we...
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