Sweethearts, it’s one o’clock in the morning. Earlier this evening I managed to lock the elusive mouse in the bathroom – and myself out. The latter being a bit of an inconvenience to say the least. I NEED THE LOO.
The Angel often remarks that life with me is a bit like a comedy programme (albeit with occasionally tragic undertones). Well, yes, but where is his or any other manly strong shoulder to dislodge that blasted door now firmly stuck and glued to its frame? All the restaurants in the street are closed at this ghastly hour so I can’t use their facilities either. And I really can’t psyche myself up to go downstairs and relieve myself outside in a dark corner. That’s what men do. Lucky bastards. Yes, so tonight is going to be an exercise in bladder control. I wish I were six months old wearing a nappy. Then, when it’s wet, I could cry to alert my mother or grandmother and hand the problem over to them. That’s what I love about being an adult. Suddenly you are your own responsibility.