“Pretending we are all beautiful is nonsense”

MY SISTER took me to a fundraising evening recently, up on the west coast of Ireland, where she lives.

It was organised by the school her children attend and advertised as a ‘BEAUTIFUL’ evening.

So at nine in the evening, I’m sitting at the back of a cold hall on a hard chair. This tends to induce instant boredom and demented fidgeting. Claustrophobic legs, my husband calls it.