Hail, lady readers, and apologies for my silence! Far from neglecting you, I've in fact spent the last week at The Women's Retreat in Hampshire, recharging my batteries, avoiding carbs (in an empowered sense) and generally centering my chakras - that is - powering up for some more polemic writing against Female oppression.
Some might think I have an easy life, but the work of a Lady writer is never done! Far from pottering around the house all day in a pinny, I rise at 8, cook my eggs and set about researching my historical endeavour 'Put That Woman Down', at least as long as I have the strength to hold a pen. Well, as you can imagine the stress had got too much. The Women's Retreat, unlike the many yoghurt-weaving peacenik indulge-fests on offer, is designed for the Modern Career Woman and combines relaxation with professional development, in a way that says 'Stick it!' to the man, right before you out(WO)maneuver him in a massive international business deal.
And I must say I was highly impressed with the fellow Sisters I encountered. Clemency, a hedge fund manager from Stratford, was a model of Female independence and empowerment with whom I spent many a night over a Martini (that's right Sisters, it's terribly unconventional!) discussing the contemporary Women's movement. Though a little absorbed in the 'Naughty Girl's Guide to blah blah' culture and adament to take advantage of the Spa's all-inclusive (though thank God not compulsary, it wasn't a Nazi concentration camp!) wax service, she still embodied, in part, the idea of the Modern Woman. Powerful, wealthy, doing her thing, putting herself out there. We could all learn a lot from such a woman.
As Virginia Woolf said, 'A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction'. She had only £500 a year, which wouldn't quite cover MY expenses, and I am writing history so I assume that costs a little more. In conclusion, as soon as the banks open on Tuesday I have resolved to set up an ISA. Thank you Women's Retreat, you've liberated one more (unwaxed) Woman.
Our Death 33 / On the Hatred of the Sun - Every evening its like the sun smashes into the earth. Its been doing it now for a few weeks. The sky splits into two and all the details of our lives - ...
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