Flash the cash

I was reliably informed last week that we live at one corner of the Wags Triangle...which consists of Loughton, Chigwell and our very own Buckhurst Hill. Its a bit like the Bermuda Triangle but with a bit more gold, fake tan and bleached blonde hair. However the more I think about the more a fairly unpalatable image of living in a WAG's triangle sticks in my head. May be a therapist can sort me out.

Living where we do is like living in a cartoon as everybody is stereotypical Essex...right down to the white stiletto boots and fish-wife language spoken in Harry Enfield's Loadsamoney voice....

...and in the same way he always had a wad of cash, so too is it here. Up at Woodford Green, there's a tatty little Italian restaurant that always has (literally) two Bentley Continental GT Convertibles parked outside as well as various Porsches, Range Rovers and sparkly cars. It only takes cash...no cheques, no credit or debit cards. And the same is true of The Player, a very swanky restaurant down Buckhurst Hill High Street. As I never carry more than £100 cash at a time, we'll never be welcomed with open arms.

Just up the road, is the brand spanking new RS Lounge club, bar and restaurant...I think they might take cards, but the VIP tables have a 'minimum spend policy'...the opening night, to which we were not invited included numerous actors and actresses (apologies to the PC set) from East Enders, Coronation Street and the like...I didn't know who they were until I googled them. Fortunately I knew the DJ - Boy George, and I hope he was doing it with a twist of post-modern irony!

We love Essex we do...but methinks the boy and I will always be outsiders...the tan painfully gained by lying flat out on the pebbles of Brighton Beach for five hours a couple of weeks ago seems to agree by having peeled itself from by back, my front, my legs and arms leaving me rather blotchy rather than the smooth orange that marks a true born and bred Essex boy.