Tonight at 6.30 we were clutching lovely warm pizza boxes in readiness for some more Claudia-ness. A food-delivery-necessity situation had occurred - another Slutty Tuesday. Couldn't cook, even though I obviously, desperately, really did want to, as there was not an inch of space on the worktops.
Today's mini post-work siesta, this time right at the tail end of 60 Minute Makeover, left me with option a) snooze some more, or b) Get On With Something. So, resuming the kitchen painting I'd started on Sunday it was. This time I was winging it - still in work clothes. The fact the trousers I wore today are my favourite 5 years old ones, with my charity-shop biba-esque swirly print top, was treading dangerously. But they, and I, escaped unsplattered and unscathed.
Anyhow, there we were, non-functioning kitchen, oven hidden under newspaper, worktops covered in all the 60's coffeepots and jugs I'd moved from the tops of the cupboards. So, v-e-r-y, v-e-r-y dusty...
And then pizza. The Pringle-quiffed one was not on there tonight - obviously only available on Mondays. There were glimpses of eyebrows, and did you see those white shoes - the kind to wear to dance round your handbag? And... at last... a hint of hair-misbehaviour, when there was a strand-lipstick collision situation.
And now we really must go and google Felicity Kendal for some pre-botox'n'lift pics. Or is that really how good that liquid yoghurt is?