A friend in need needs Falke

Today I got an email from Which? titled 'Affected by the eruption?'
Don't ask me why but I found this completely hilarious.
(For those of you who don't know Which? is a consumer rights and reviews magazine which I subscribe to because occasionally it is useful when trying to choose which fridge/camera/car to buy.)
Does anyone not know that all flights in the UK and across most of Europe have been grounded because of a giant cloud of volcanic ash drifting slowly through the sky from Iceland making flying conditions a bit tricky? Apparantly, yes - at least one person on our web services team had no idea what we were talking about this morning.
There are a few upsides to this situation - my editor for example is stuck on a Spanish island which only has two flights a week anyway and probably won't be back until next week now, which is a bit of a mixed blessing becasue she's stuck in a lovely sunny place but is probably very worried about the likelihood of us doing something awful to her newspaper.
Miley Cyrus can't come to the UK to launch her new film and Chris Moyles was unable to present his breakfast radio show so England actually seems a bit nicer.
I also know a number of people who have been adversley affected by said eruption.
Among them is EDF, my favourite South African Brit and part of my very small group of friends who are so close they are practically family.
She was supposed to be flying home, having spent far too long away from the bosom of her family, and was due to arrive in time to celebrate her birthday. But it was not to be.
What do you do when one of your best friends is so miserable that they have to retreat to Chiswick? You give them Falke.
For girls who like tights, Falke are a sort of secret weapon. Moderately cheaper than the other super-opaques, Wolford's Velvet Touch, Falke's cotton touch tights are difficult to beat. Impressively ladder resistant - they even survive being jumped on and clawed at and licked and chewed repeatedly by a foot obsessed puppy - and soft and as thick and black as they promise to be without feeling like you've wrapped your leg in anti-blood clot bandages. None of this namby pamby M&S pretend-we're-opaque-til-you-put-us-on-and-can-still-see-skin-before-laddering-two-minutes-later nonsense. No, these are serious tights - armour for the legs of the urban woman. 
Throw in a Mac eye-liner, one too many fizzy cocktails and a cheeseboard and you have a happier friend and a nice glowy feeling in your tummy like you've done something to make the world a slightly better place... which is much better than the sloshy feeling you usually get after one too many of those vodka and chamapgne and sugary flavouring of goodness drinks, especially if you've had to go all the way to Chiswick.