Blue Monday

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As I type, the coach I am in has just left Victoria. I have lived in London for 12 years and still get lost every time I try to find Victoria Coach station. It is absolutely astonishing to me that every day beautiful buildings in London are being ripped down and turned in to something uglier when Victoria Coach station, the most depressing structure within the M25, remains untouched. If ever you find yourself craving a home improvement you can’t afford, I would encourage you to spend ten minutes in that building, as the only notable plus I can see for it is to serve as a reminder of all that one truly has.

And so to the coach itself. I queued behind a couple as she softly and earnestly sang ‘you are my sunshine’ to him in the style of Christina Aguilera and I wanted to punch her feckin lights out. Two teenagers came and sat behind me and are currently laughing together = awful. A man at the back is on the phone to someone angrily telling them all he wanted to do is see his kids and that well, that’s her problem isn’t it. And just this second I have realised there is an angry creak just above my head that squeals whenever the coach moves, which luckily in this London rush hour traffic isn’t often.

Which is more - I’m on my way to Norwich.

It’s hard to imagine a scenario more wretched than the one I am in. But I won’t have long to find out, for tomorrow is Blue Monday - statistically the most miserable day of the year as a result of failed resolutions, broken diets, empty bank accounts, bad weather, long nights and no holidays in sight.

Right fuck this I’m cheering myself up by doing my favourite thing - beauty window shopping.


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I’m going to eradicate the ‘oily bath or bubbly bath’ decision headache and opt straight for whatever smells most uplifting. This has Frankincense (if it’s good enough for Jesus…..), Cardamom (if it’s good enough for a rice pudding….) and sage (if it’s good enough for millionaire LA hippies to ward off evil spirits…..). Go and wallow for longer than necessary, put on REM and ignore the banging on the door.


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And light this and stare at the flame as the banging intensifies. God it’s so perfectly morose this.


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Take this in to the bathroom as well. It’s currently making me smile and weep but that could be the coach of course.


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At the moment my hair is going from billowy and soft up top to gradually more dry and twiggy by the tips, like the ends of spaghetti that stick out of a boiling pot before you cram it in. If , like me, using hairspray would threaten to snap those ends right off this is a functional yet fancy alternative to cheer you up. One less thing to worry about. To continue the food theme, I like this because colour and texture is of whipped marg.


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Listen, I’ve blazed enough trails in my time to enjoy the ride from the backseat of the bandwagon once in a while. Everyone’s talking about these drops, and with good reason. Add them to anything liquid you put on to your face for instant highlighting and insta filtering. Careful though, there’s a fine line between ‘Charlize Theron in the Dior advert’ and C3P0.


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Only available in US so order it tomorrow, forget all about it, and when it arrives you’ll have a beauty surprise from yourself. I love getting presents for future me. A silky balm in delightful turmericky yellow, it soothes and hydrates and smells like spicy jasmine.

Rebecca Humphries