After going rogue in Mayfair the other night, I have now gone ‘rouge’.
Forty minutes of physiotherapy massage at the London Clinic has left me looking like Aunt Sally. It has been three hours since I left, and the bright red marks on my (razor sharp) cheek bones are still there.
I asked my physio how many of her patients have the long, perfectly rectangular face that the table is clearly designed for. She declined to comment.
I can only assume that whoever made it had the long horsey faces of aristocrats in mind. The place is on Harley Street after all, so it wouldn’t surprise me.
Come to think of it….I’m sure I’m sure I saw sugar cubes and hay next to the complimentary biscuits in the waiting room.