I'm still in my nightie!
And not a chance in hell of getting dressed.
Just yet.
You see I had a late night last night.
After I'd served dinner we (she) decided that it'd be good fun to watch 'The Siege' with the "not bad for a black man" Denzel Washington. Yum.
So there we sat, Mother, John and I eating late night chocolate cake watching the FBI take on Ali Waziri et al.
Bless.
Yawn.
Would it be gauche, unclean or even unladylike if I blogged and peeled onions with my hair sticking up?
Would I be deemed un-daughterly if I told Mother that all day viewing of Poirot, Frost, Foyle and Jack Regan is NOT good and that a brisk trip around the weeds is far more beneficial?
Would I be seen as a little madam if I asked Her not to leave busted pill packets by the marmalade and headscarves on the lamp?
There she sits like an elf on a toadstool watching Poirot solve another ghastly murder while I teeter on the office chair unkempt and in need of a good something or other.
Groan.
Just to show that my plans for the perfect matricide are still simmering away nicely I will, after de-cobwebbing my eyeballs, make a fresh pot of tea for Her.
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