All is forgiven Bill. Karma. The world is right again. The donkey socks never arrived but something else did. I know you didn’t actually send the package Bill, but I have to believe that you put those good vibes out into the universe and they sailed across the Irish sea, bundled themselves into a white paper parcel and landed at my doorstep. In Ireland. (Not part of the UK). (Read all about Bill and the donkey socks).
It was a child who delivered them to the door. A grumpy child. I was cowering behind it like I usually do, leaving my whole body behind the full door, one leg holding the westie dog who thinks she’s an alsatian back, one arm clinging to my baby. Only my forehead appears and the tops of my eyes – just enough to see who it is, but certainly enough body language to say: ‘go away’. I hate answering the door. I hate being quizzed by randomers about who my energy supplier is. And I never have any change for charity muggers. (I use tolls a lot).
Children are ALWAYS looking for money and to be fair, how can you deny a child a euro for their playground / scouts / football team fund? This girl however handed ME a package. It had my address on it. And my phone number. And I was just about to question her as to what it might be, when I saw the courier van exit our estate, driven by her Dad. Obviously.
Inside the package I found these.
I thought, wow, isn’t being a blogger great? I asked in my bloggers’ Facebook group – did any of ye get this delivery? Isn’t it lovely? But noone had. And so then I felt extra special.
I used the hand cream. Being the Cinderella type (do loads of housework, have an ugly sister, often lose one shoe) my hands are as rough as a plasterer’s palm and so I regularly carry moisturisers with me. I’ll be honest. I wasn’t holding out much hope. I thought the packaging was a bit plain and I didn’t think it looked expensive enough to be amazing. But it was. The real test of hand cream is the half an hour afterwards. If your hands feel clammy, your hand cream is jammy. And so a massive moisturised thumbs up from me.
The face cream I only got to try last night. My face gets neglected. It’s just the way things are these days. I need industrial tweezers to get those brows back under control at the minute. And even though flakes often fall from my face, like a winter snow storm in my own bedroom, I’m really bad at putting cold cream on. It looks like it will do the job, and if it’s anything like the hand cream, it will.
So that was grand. I thought, must write that review, because I really like what I’ve been sent here. I decided to check the envelope, the one I’d prised from the hands of the grumpy child and it was then that I made my discovery. It was my address alright. And my phone number. But the name was wrong. The package was addressed to a different blogger. The products weren’t meant for me at all!
Too late. They were already open. The product was now in my pores. And while I enjoy the slip slap slop of my new favourite beauty range, one poor blogger is anxiously watching the post, scratching her head and wondering why her product for review has not yet arrived. Don’t worry my love. We’ve all been there. Just ask Bill.
Ziaja Natural Argan Oils Protective Face Cream is priced at €6.99 and Ziaja Natural Argan Oils Protective Hand Cream is priced at €3.99. A range of Ziaja products can be ordered direct from www.orginalbeauty.ie
Disclaimer: I do not have an ugly sister. She’s very beautiful in fact. I received no payment for this review: sure they don’t even know I’m writing it yet.