Since I have been outdoors a great deal lately, performing Olympic events in the glorious sunshine, I thought I ought to use some sun cream so I looked through our selection of congealed orange bottles and found something that promises to make me bronze gently, like the Christmas turkey. It actually makes you and all your clothes look like David Dickinson. I don't even think it contains much in the way of SPFs or USBs or whatever. I have bright orange palms, streaky legs and sun dress; thank goodness I didn't put it on my bonce. From now on I will strive for Victorian pallidity.
So what am I up to today? I made the mistake of posing this question to Mr Smith this morning who came up with a list of activities that made Hercules look like he was on holiday. I am not doing the strawberry beds or blitzing the kitchen or reorganising the fridge. I might speak severely to our tupperware about its inability to do matching pots and lids which makes me wants to cry. Where do they all go? Then I will paint a picture.
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