Today, something serendipitous happened.
I was wandering down Pitt St with my pal Ellie to head to the food court to eat our lunch and then lo and behold THERE IS GINGER SPICE. It’s important to note; I morphed into a fully-fledged fan girl and told her she was my fave Spicey, that I dressed up as her for NYE and that I may or may not own her in Barbie Doll form (not creepy at all) but I just couldn't help it because IT WAS FRIGGING GINGER SPICE. Oh and I was also holding my lunch, avocado toast, ON A PAPER PLATE during the entire conversation. Cool, calm and collect I was not.
Luckily Geri is very used to this kind of carry on and handled the situation like a pro. She happily posed for a photo with me, asked what my friend's name was (sorry for hogging Ginger Ellie!) and sweetly introduced us to her daughter, Bluebell Madonna. It was just bloody excellent. And thank God, because I'd be crushed if she was a bitch. You hear horror stories of people meeting their childhood idols and them turning out to be jerk-faces but I am pleased to confirm Ginger is a legend.
My life is sufficiently spiced! Thanks Geri.