What shall I do now?

I was busy feeling all end of projecty when the phone calls all started. Can you come and fix things, come to a party, come to another party, come to the aid of the party? Well, I could but I would so rather not. So I won't. It's compulsory day of rest today with hairdressers tomorrow followed by my grand entrance at the Dorchester in the evening. I am going as a tomato in a lovely red dress with that big button on my head. I am considering putting my hair up and looking like a fat princess. Football. How I hate it, on tv every bloody evening with Mr Smith glued to it. There is only ever a goal when he leaves the room. Poor Designer Susan got flooded down in W Sussex. So glad we sold the seaside place.