Walking down the street in Dublin the other day, I was stopped by a respectably dressed older woman.
Her: Do you know where Boots is?
Me: I’m terribly sorry, I’m afraid I don’t.
Her: Never mind, it’s just that you looked like you would know, not like some other people.
I will be 40 next year.
My hair is like Hilary Clinton’s.
Are all of these things unrelated? I think not.
