When I decided to leave the country for a few months, I knew it’d be hard – that certain goodbyes would be quite difficult (even if only for a short time) but what’s just happened, well, it’s just plain insanity.
My wardrobe (to which we all now know I am very attached) has just staged a final protest at me, by flinging itself at my feet. I kid you not. It practically burst (into tears/ tears – take whichever reading you like) open and threw itself at me. It may as well have shrieked: ‘But the SPRING is coming…we pretty little dresses want to get out of this dark hole. Why are you locking us away?! In favour of…(big gasp)…scraggy tees and waterproof coats?!’
I tried to calm it down, brush off the fluffballs and put it calmly back to bed, but it was having none of it. The blooming pole dropped sideways and point blank refused to pull its weight. Frankly, this just wound me up. After a second attempt to rehang the lot of it resulted in a patent shoe flying at my head, while the rest of my clothes tried to smother me (a sure attempt to make me stay at home), I got the big guns out. Oh yes, hello superglue – meet wardrobe pole. You are going to be VERY FIRM friends.
I think the clothes finally got the message. They have now been locked away in punishment for bad behaviour, and won’t be making an appearance until June, at least. That’ll teach ’em…