I decided the other day that I’d have a full day of spa-like pampering complete with a hair mask and homemade face and body mask. It was only ever meant to be a facemask to start with – full of natural yoghurt, honey and a dash of milk but soon enough I found myself stood in the bathroom, not dissimilarly to John Wayne, looking like I was ready to be popped in the oven and roasted at 180 for an hour and a half. I was literally honey glazed…like a big fat piece of ham. But now I am proudly sporting silky smooth skin. Bothered? Nope.

Which complete and utter idiot thought it would be good to mix tequila with red, white and rose wine last night? Oh yes, that idiot would be me. How is it that a simple outing for lunch turned into one of the alcohol fuelled nights that leaves more than just a bitter taste in your mouth? After waking up in cow print pyjama bottoms and a top that read ‘Satisfaction Guaranteed’ (this was hilarious actually with the state of my face, satisfaction…don’t be bloody daft you must be having a giraffe) I felt the familiar pound of a sore head. All I can say is literally thank the Lord for a Lancôme skincare routine and my Yves Saint Laurent Touche Eclat. Oh and copious amounts of English Breakfast Tea and jam on toastie loaf. I am never drinking again, (lies) well, at least never mixing everything up again (more lies). Oh…stuff it. Have you ever felt seriously hungover that you really could not manage to even drag yourself out of the bath? My God, I felt like I was climbing a huge bubbly mountain, not even getting started on the washing my hair part. Today has not been a good day.

Anyway, to leave things on a brighter pondering note, I heard this question today: can you still say “put it where the sun doesn’t shine” on a nudist beach? Interesting, very interesting!