She was posh. She wore only the finest designer clothes, carried a different designer handbag each day of the week to co-ordinate with her outfit and had her nails done at the salon every Sunday afternoon. Her hair was expertly and expensively cut every month. She wore diamond jewellery every day, no cubic zirconia for her. She spoke with the kind of upper class accent that grates the nerves of the rest of us. She looked at you like you were something dirty she just trod in and wrinkled her nose as if you smelt like it too. Mike just calls her a stuck up bitch, but I remind him not to be vulgar. I say it just plays into her hands, feeds her superiority complex. So I'll stick with 'posh' when I refer to her out-loud. What I call her in my head is my business.

By ravinder, November 3, 2013.