In a hotel lobby this weekend, I momentarily dropped my precious bag of Maltesers when a stunning leggy redhead swept through the foyer. What was it about her that had everyone, including me, transfixed? Was it her magnificent camel coloured cashmere coat with its cutting edge angular jutting pockets? Her gleaming over-the-knee boots that were the length of my entire leg? The amazing mane of glossy red locks that tumbled down her back?
Who knows. But the girl had "it" and, as I watched her, with my scuffed high street boots and chipped nails, I fleetingly wished I had "it" too. Sadly, I know only too well that sweeping grandly about is impossible when you're five foot two and your hair has never seen a glossy day in its frizzy life. I will never have "it".
But a half-eaten bag of melted Maltesers in my pocket? Now that I have.