By Marian Keyes
Pass extra less than the covers and remain in mattress a bit longer with Marian Keyes during this successful follow-up to her damage essay assortment, below the quilt. Written within the witty, forthright type that has earned her legions of dedicated readers, Cracks in My beginning bargains a fair deeper and extra candid inspect this loved author's brain and middle, exploring such common subject matters as family and friends, domestic, glamour and wonder, teenagers, go back and forth, and extra. Marian's hilarious and considerate tackle existence makes her readers suppose they're analyzing a pal, not only an writer. Marian maintains to entertain together with her studies from the trenches, and throws in a few unique brief fiction besides. no matter if it really is traveling Siberia, breaking it off with an outdated hairdresser, procuring (of course!), turning 40, residing along with her liked husband, Himself (a guy past description), or musing at the F be aware (feminism), Marian stocks the fun, passions, and sorrows of her global and is helping us be ok with our personal. So seize a latte and a pillow and prepare to snort your slippers off!
Read or Download Cracks in My Foundation: Bags, Trips, Make-up Tips, Charity, Glory, and the Darker Side of the Story (Essays and Stories) PDF
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Extra resources for Cracks in My Foundation: Bags, Trips, Make-up Tips, Charity, Glory, and the Darker Side of the Story (Essays and Stories)
Which brings me to a very important point: there ’s a myth that men are stoical. But actually, men aren’t stoical. Men are healthy. Women get sick a lot so we ’re quite comfortable with it. But men have no practice so when they do get ill, they make a right song-and-dance about it. Like the time my dad went into hospital to have his hip replaced. It ’s a straightforward enough operation, even though it sounds gruesome as anything—the patients are conscious so they get to hear their bones being sawed.
I might even lose the tops of a couple of fingers to frostbite, and everyone would think I was fabulous. People would ask me why I climbed the highest peaks in the world (I had mutated from being an ordinary trekker to a mountaineer) and I would reply, “Why do dogs lick their balls? ” And nobody would think I was vulgar. From now on I would only wear track suits made out of those high-tech fabrics which can stop a speeding bullet but weigh less than a feather. I would never wear skirts, except on special occasions, when, although I would be lovely and slim, my calves would be bunched and enormous in my high heels and my legs would be bandy.
Inquiries were made: was it a localized thing? Just the nightclub, perhaps? But no, the whole town was out. Even though it was only three in the afternoon, it was quite dark. A decision was made, I would do my reading by candlelight. But I couldn’t read and hold my candle at the same time, in case I set my book on fire, so the lovestruck Pyotr was on his feet offering to hold my candle. As it were. So the show went on, with Pyotr taking every opportunity to stand far too close to me. But hey, I was facing forty and flattered.