Fly your kite

Good Monday to you all. I sure hope your weekends proved to be havens of tranquil restfulness and not at all booze-fuelled or bank balance-destroying. Mine was almost entirely focused on the former, naturally. Yesterday's most pleasant of Sundays was spent table tennis table-building along with the other alpha female of the household as the 'men' of the house were - and how do I put this nicely - too incompetent/lazy to lend a hand. ('Oh, but Anna, we just don't understand the diagram.') Boo-hoo. Instead, I headed-up operation Let's finally build this table tennis table you bought for Christmas and put my boyfriend on tea-making/moral support duty. Et voila! Five hours and numerous close-to-tears moments later and the table was incarnate. 'Oh wow', says the boyfriend, 'that's amazing. We'd never have managed without you. How can I reward you?' Chocolates or flowers I'm assuming was his train of thought here. 'Oh don't be silly', I replied, 'You needn't reward me'... Pause... 'But if you really must...'

And that's how we're onto the subject of KITE. I need these in my life, more than feet need Jimmy Choos or gnocchi needs tomato and mascarpone sauce. I had originally taken all of the above and stored them in a hypothetical 'save for later' folder in my brain - an imaginary self-storage area into which I pack most unaffordable-for-now-but-maybe-when-I-get-paid items. So, imagine my delight when I discovered prices start at only £90. As for the reward for my back-breaking building efforts? I choose the fur trim clutch. 

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