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'The awkward lessons of my luxury lockdown in Kensington' - a self entitled twat whines away

editor

editor

hiraethified
Just in case you needed to hate the self entitled rich a bit more:

Living in the middle of London with two young children, I needed to be more pragmatic. I gave up one spare room to bring our nanny into our South Kensington home and prepared the other for a friend who needed to move to be isolated from her husband, a surgeon.

Conscious of my responsibility towards the additional souls on board, I took stock of what resources I could call on. Trebling our usual order from the Freddie’s Flowers delivery service was the obvious place to start. It escapes me now why this particular luxury had struck me as essential at the time.
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As Ocado’s grocery deliveries were whittled down to one a week and the food halls at Harrods, which had served customers throughout the second world war, shuttered early in the current crisis, we had to find our sustenance elsewhere. Fortuitously, the Chelsea gym that was my regular haunt BC (before Covid) was loath to leave its members vulnerable to the dangers of what has since been identified as “coronacarbs”. We can have little extras such as protein shakes, artisanal coffees and snacks delivered to our doorsteps.

Once the lockdown eased a little, the many bijou boulangeries and épiceries that dot our neighbourhood reopened. Life began to look a bit more normal. Only it was not, marked by the twin terrors of home schooling and working from home. Fairly early, I felt justified in bringing in reinforcements.

Despite my two degrees in finance, I have been called out on more than one occasion by my seven-year-old son for getting Year Two maths wrong. This is not good for my self-esteem, nor does it bode well for the boy’s continued wellbeing. After much shouting, we found relief in online tutoring. At £65-95 an hour depending on whether it is for chess or maths, a tutor costs half as much as the psychiatrist we may have needed otherwise.
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As a freelance journalist blessed with an inheritance as well as a venture-capitalist husband, my work wardrobe is split in a rather self-contradictory manner between Chanel tweed blazers that I wear to interviews and athleisure for when I toil in front of a computer. Neither fit the brief for Working From Home While Under Constant Electronic Surveillance. “Casual but groomed,” advised a personal shopper who encouraged me to look at boiler suits in linen or denim. Not one to veer too far from the familiar, I turned instead to Olivia von Halle for silk pyjamas in colours guaranteed to make the dullest Zoom meeting come alive.
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That's gotta be a pisstake surely? but if it's not then I am interested to note that she quoted £65-£95 for tutoring, Mrs Q teaches maths in a school and knows most of the local maths tutors, they range from about £20-£40 here in the East Midlands perhaps maths taught to rich people is different to that taught to the plebs.
 
MickiQ said:
That's gotta be a pisstake surely? but if it's not then I am interested to note that she quoted £65-£95 for tutoring, Mrs Q teaches maths in a school and knows most of the local maths tutors, they range from about £20-£40 here in the East Midlands perhaps maths taught to rich people is different to that taught to the plebs.
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It must cost more to teach the spoilt little brats all those extra zeroes.
 
planetgeli said:
But do the FT even do clickbait?

She's an extremely rich ex- "star banker" with Credit Suisse amongst others. She's now an editorial journalist with no apparent self-awareness.

Up against the wall.
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Does that mean it's not a parody? I assumed it was from most of what she wrote, but then the death stuff, like Editor said, made me think that if it was a parody it was a fucked up one.
 
scifisam said:
Does that mean it's not a parody? I assumed it was from most of what she wrote, but then the death stuff, like Editor said, made me think that if it was a parody it was a fucked up one.
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It's not a parody. She's getting the piss taken out of her on business/economics pages. I've read some of her other stuff and she's never written anything satirical. This is what unbridled entitlement looks like.
 
Exactly, I think it’s supposed to be funny. It’s not of course. So self parody but she should’ve kept it within the Kensington Pilates Facebook group or whatever.
 
Does anyone remember the 'hurricane in Kensal Green' story? Reminds me of that, except that this author (who I've never heard of) is even more entitled and lacking in self-awareness.
 
Finally, somebody calls attention to the forgotten victims of COVID-19 - has anyone gone door-to-door in Chelsea to check whether anybody starved to death in their homes, or at least suffered dangerous exposure to gluten, during the brief closure of the "many bijou boulangeries and épiceries?"
 
I used to write like that when I was a sixth-former. I mean without the money of course, just with that sort of breezy pseudo-Wodehouse tone that I thought made me out to be a witty intellectual rather than, you know, a prick. Maybe I should have thrown in a few more Harrods references.
 
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S☼I said:
Reads like a parody doesn't it.
Surprised it wasn't the the Guardian
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I'm not ;) -- but I was a bit surprised that shite like that appeared in the FT.

Given that the FT have for quite a while now been putting out some pretty damned good articles related to Covid ....... but as exceptions go, that's about the worst.... :hmm:
 
If you were to find yourself rich by some stroke of luck, at least have a bit of taste and don't go and live in Kensington. It's boring, it has no neighbourhood life, you could live in a better house somewhere else that was also still disgustingly expensive.

Wouldn't you at least have the brains to take the nice view from Primrose Hill? I'm not saying that being stinkingly wealthy there is the way things should be, but at least put some thought into it.

I used to imagine being rich and living in Josephine Avenue in Brixton. I thought it was so pretty. Probably costs a million quid to live there too now.
 
Isn't it utterly lovely of Sanjay, thirty year old father of two, to "choose" to remain in Delhi to cook and clean for her mother rather than return to his village? Poor sod. I suppose if his wife or parents or siblings in the village get Covid19 and die, he'd just have to hear about it later. :( Couldn't the writer's mother furlough Sanjay home to his village for a while and either do her own cooking or employ someone local? It seems quite heartless.

I really thought it was a spoof until I got to see the whole article, with the mention of dead people.
 
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