Cinderella you WON'T go to the ball…

I’m in the swankiest hotel I’ve ever stayed in, spent the afternoon swanning around the guest health club and just had a delicious dinner on room service that came under a silver salver. All that and I’m still not happy!

My family are at a beautiful formal ball held in the splendour of Goodwood House, eating exquisite food, dancing the night away and quaffing champagne – I’m lying on a hotel bed watching Casualty whilst listening out to make sure my gorgeous nephew doesn’t start screaming blue bloody murder across the hallway.
Of course I could have gone to the ball and had fun but really, who wants to go and play gooseberry at a Valentine’s Ball. I’d much rather wait and go when I am on the arm of dinner jacketed eligible man who’d twirl me round the dancefloor, keep my glass topped up and naturally tell me how beautiful I looked.

Maybe next year will get to be my year to be twirled on the arm of a handsome gent. Fingers crossed eh?


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