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Not Such Good Intentions.

If I were wise I'd be ballyhooing my new hot-off-the-presses sequel to Lady Bag: Crocodiles and Good Intentions. But it's hot and I'm unaccountably irritated, and I'm no good at self-promotion, so I'll go with the irritation instead.

Okay, here's my beef: I'm not all that interested in clothes – I like them old, soft, loose and comfortable. But sometimes my nearest and dearest persuade me to go for something other than what I kid myself is charity shop chic. So sometimes I go out and spend money. And here's the bugbear: no matter how much I spend, no matter how soft the fabric is, the labels the designers and manufacturers sew into the garments always scratch, itch and at worst bring me out in a rash. Why is this? Can't they be bothered? Are they cutting costs? Are they punishing me for not buying something even more expensive? I need to know. After only one outing I have to cut the labels out which means that I lose the washing instructions.

This is what I felt was a more important and pressing subject to rant about on this hot and humid day than self-promotion.

Someone care to go out and promote it for me? I'm not too scratchy to carry a cheque to the bank.


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