Nefertiti, a woman the wrong side of menopause, has an ego larger than her bank balance. She can read palms, remember past lives and does it all with her own peculiar slant on the pelvic tilt. Her soul mate (Rodger the artist) would call her brilliant, inspiring, and a dab hand at pastry. Her class calls her the naff one, which Nefertiti takes as a compliment. She sees herself as the singing mystic of womanhood, others see her as a woman who could do with a better bra, a better dentist and definately a better wig; with stories as believable as last year's budget.

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