End of an Era

After being my home-from-home for tea and gossip for three years and nearly 100 sets of sensational nails, the Pink Palace has been sold.

All customers were invited for a farewell drink yesterday at a nearby pub. I decided to wear shocking pink, in homage, and to match this week's cherryade nails.

'I don't imagine I'll be very long' - I advised Mr Duck, as I headed out the door with Yummy Mummy; anticipating a swift pint or two and hugs/air kisses as appropriate with a few, familiar faces.

The shocking pink turned out to be a wise decision as we entered the small pub, tucked at the end of some terraced two-up-two-downs.

Cowering in the corners of the bar were the regulars, clutching pints of mild and blinking uncertainly.

Setting up in the side room were one of the finest rock bands in the North West, friends of the departing Pink Palace owner's musician boyfriend - complete with tattoos, earrings and enough amplifiers and speakers to serve the borough, never mind a small pub.

Taking over the rest of the pub were dozens of PP customers like exotic birds in shades of pink, tangerine and lime - complete with highlighted, extended hair; stilettos to make Carrie Bradshaw green; and fake tans, nails and boobs aplenty.

The guinness flowed, the band rocked, the birds preened and fluttered and the Pink Palace got the send-off it deserved, albeit a very surreal one.

All Change

The Pink Palace is no longer Pink!

Not shocking Pink, not rose Pink and not even whitewithahintofPink.

Is this the death of alliteration as we know it?

Can I bear to get my nails done in the Whitewithahintofcream Palace?*

Evil days indeed.


* Update: Yes I can. This week I will mostly be wearing House Red nails with black tulips.

Happy New Year

This week, I will mostly be wearing 10 pints of Guinness

on my nails.

Power Cut

The power went out at teatime on Saturday as I returned from the Pink Palace* with Midnight Rouge nails and JP. I'll return to the power cut story in a minute, but you must hear about the 5 foot headless Santa.

The Pink Palace always make an effort to do the windows. Last Christmas the display was a big fireplace with a fairy light fire. This year the girls have made a huge papier mâché Santa. Unfortunately when we arrived, his head was still drying on the radiator and his body complete with belt and boots stood waiting in the cutting room like something out of a Christmas movie by Tim Burton. To his credit, JP wasn't phased at all and proceeded to fashion a homemade gum shield out of chewed up tooty frooties from the gumball machine. I love what passes for normal in his world.

Anyway, to the power cut. For the first few minutes the power was dipping in and out like bad strobe lighting at Phoenix Nights. In the bursts of light, I made for the garage to find a lighter to get some candles going or at the very least, a torch. My 21st century boy stood quietly by the door and said - "why don't you just use the light on your mobile?" In the blackness, I couldn't think of a suitable maternal putdown for such practicality, so I fired up the Nokia and retrieved the matches.

Within minutes the house was aglow with tealights and a pan of water was boiling on the gas hob. "What's the water for?" asked JP. I had no idea. I'd boiled water for no reason other than I could.

Mr Duck and Tiddler returned from Tesco and we stowed the chilled and frozen goods in timed precision, opening fridge and freezer in short bursts to preserve the cold inside. Obviously we drank all the beer which was perishing before our eyes.

There followed a most enjoyable couple of hours. We put batteries in the Little Ducks' torches and they helpfully guided us back and forth to the toilet as required. United beat Blackburn as we listened on the transister radio I got for my 21st birthday and the boys played lego by torchlight.

So we camped out in our front room on Saturday - allowing the Little Ducks to curl up to sleep on the sofas with their 'blankies' rather than confine them to their cold bedrooms with no nightlights and planned our evening of backgammon. When the power returned later that evening it was greeted as much with disappointment as with relief.


* Beauty Salon with regular clients who fetch up there for tea, acrylic nails and a brief escape. A bit like Dolly Parton's place in Steel Magnolias, but pink - very, very pink.