I met up with Nools on lunchbreak the other day and she was all excited about getting tickets for Brian Ferry this weekend. I'm like "Hello? You spent eighty smackers on going to see an old man with a pencil moustache sway from side to side. Can you even name one of his songs?" She admitted she couldn't but would know one if she heard it and it was more important that she would be seeing a living legend. At that stage she lost me as I was busy trying to calculate how much Mac products I could buy with eighty notes. She's also hyped up for the Rolling Stones. I'm like "Just rent Pirates of the Carribean, you won't be able to tell the difference".

Anyway, it got me thinking about what people do with their money and how much is just wasted on impulse splurges. Then I kept saying the word 'splurge' out loud until it made no sense anymore. Back in the shop, I was online (Benefit blusher is way cheaper from their website) and perusing the Oxfam website. You can totally give people the means to start their own business or train them in a skill with a small monthly donation. One lady makes her own soap. How cool is that? And it's probably way nicer than that soap shop in town that smells like Transition Year. It like always gives me a headache when I walk past. Now that people are getting their SSIA money it's the perfect time to think about doing good with it. It's like when you've won the lottery in your head and you're like "So much to family, so much to friends, so much to charity, so much to Basil, etc.". Speaking of the devil (or the devilishly handsome) Basil looked over my shoulder and mentioned what a good idea the SSIA Appeal was. "Yeah", I said, "I'd definitely be on for that". He was so thrilled I couldn't tell him that I'd already blown my SSIA money on veneers but there was still someone in the O'Really clan who could be persuaded to donate theirs.

"I'm putting it into a pyramid scheme, love" Martina said later.

"Mum, that's so stupid! Everyone knows pyramid schemes are a rip off".

"That's just people who don't understand them. Fabienne Molloy says just two years will double your money".

"Is that the same Fabienne Molloy who told you to buy Eirom shares?"

"It's also the same Fabienne Molloy who told us to buy Celine Dion tickets and sell them on for a profit" she snapped.

"Yes, but Dad had to have his piles operated on after standing outside The Point for five hours".

I certainly have my work cut out for me, but I'll persuade the parents to cough up some of their SSIA if it's the last thing I ever do. They are so ungrateful for what they have. Maybe they can lend me some to get a walk in wardrobe too.

I'm back working in Oxfam. Only mild concussion and THANK GOD I could style my fringe so that it covered the bruise on my head. And, of course, fake tan works wonders. They only kept me in overnight. I was dreading Basil coming to visit me and having to see me in my teddy bear pyjamas (which undoubtedly Martina would bring in) and him having to talk to Martina herself. She'd be doing her telephone voice and trying to sound like Mary Robinson but mixing up her ts and ths.

"Yos, dis is a lovely hospithal, osn't ith?" Cringe fest.

I refused to discuss it with Basil as I'm so embarrassed and I know Mapi finds the whole thing hilarious as she probably thinks I was drunk as opposed to in a rush down the stairs.

Milseán arrived in to see what we had in the line of bridesmaid's dresses. I thought she'd want something flouncy and tartan but she actually went for a tasteful aubergine taffeta halterneck with fitted skirt. There's hope for the old spinster yet. Although Nools said that Milseán liked it so much that she wore it watching telly that evening and got it covered in cat hairs. Some people just don't appreciate the genius of Chloe.

Everything was going swimmingly. He told me that he was from Bray and I told him all about my mother going into labour in Switzer's and then me being suspended from playschool because I made fun of another toddler's hair and then being Marketing Director of our Mini Company in Transition year and how this led on to me getting a 2:3 Diplocert in Media Studies and all about my family and my house and Nools and her crazy gaelgóir spinster sister Milsean when suddenly, as if by magic I hear "Ah, Aoiphe! Conas a tá tú? Agus mahogony gaspipe leathras caca milis blah blah blah?" Obviously I have no idea what she's saying when she launches an Irish attack on me. Nools wasn't around to get her to ask her sister to make any sense. So Basil thought I was friends with someone wearing an aran jumper (with a necklace!!!), combats and Dunnes court shoes. And to top it all off her moustache looked more untamed than Courtney Love in a tumble drier.

I introduced them and she shoved her not inconsiderable hips in beside us.

"Listen", she hissed (nearly knocking me out with the waft of Guinness), "I'm glad I bumped into you. I've been asked to be a bridesmaid at my friend Gobnait's wedding" - she waited for the oohs and ahs from me that weren't forthcoming, in fact I always thought Gobnait was a laserbeam - "so I get to choose my own dress and I know you have sense of style ana mhaith".

"Well", I said, glancing at Basil, "You know that Oxfam Occasions, where we work, have a really good selection of formal wear. You should come in and have a look".

She started to describe what she was looking for so I looked past her into the mirror to check myself out. To my HORROR the overhead lamp was shining directly down on me looking like I had a super hairy top lip! I had bleached it to tide me over til my next appointment in the House of Wax but Basil must think I look like Hulk Hogan. Hurriedly excusing myself I went to run down to the toilets with my trusty makeup bag (which has more tools than a plumber's belt) but in my haste I slipped and careered down the 30 odd steps.

All I remember after that are blue flashing lights, sirens and Milsean's face with a bit of spittle in the corner of her mouth as she bent over me saying "Maith go leor lads, I'll call her parents and then see you in St James's Hospital!"

"I hold in my hand the envelope with the answer we've all been waiting for" said Basil. I love the way he's so dorky. After doing a little drumroll with his fingers he opened revealed the winner of the poster girl was me. Like, duh! So after much hugging (and awkwardly missing Basil's mouth and sticking my tongue up his nose) he asked to speak with Mapi alone. I left them to it and got to folding anything foldable. I couldn't really hear because some old trout came in looking for a muff (I was too preoccupied with earwigging to snigger). Just as I turned around to check the winter woollies Mapi left the shop. I didn't know what the story was until Basil eventually came over a couple of hours later. "Aoiphe, I don't want you to get upset about this but Mapi's had to be disciplined because of something she did" I'm all "Ohmagod, Basil, that's terrible" thinking how great it was there were just two of us working together. "Well, it's just that it concerns you. I'm afraid she gave Dermo the photographer some money to, well, make you look bad in the shot he took of you. He was caught adding acne to your chin". I stood there very calmly. "I sent her home to think about what she did but she'll be back in on Monday and she's going to apologise to you".

"How much did she bribe him with?" I enquired. He told me it was fifty euro. I suppose it would take a lot of time to make me look ugly. I lost out on twenty quid. If I ever see that Dermo again I'll claw his eyes out. I cast my mind back to school when I played an upset Von Trapp child and made my eyes well up.

"Oh Basil. Why do people do bad things? Why can't we all love each other?" I asked appealingly.

"Man, it's rough. Don't cry though Aoiphe. It's just a cultural thing. She didn't mean it". It was working. I started wailing on his shoulder and the next thing I knew I was in the Stag's Head with a hot port and a hot boy.