Love is...

Duck went to our local Co-op earlier today to get some fresh bread for lunch. As is his way, this usually means that he will return with at least five other items we don't need. Today he returned and told me that he'd brought me back a present. As I was up to my elbows in Cillitt Bang and bathroom grime, I excitedly squealed "A Filipino maid?". "Er, no" said Duck, "but I have got you a Halloween gingerbread pumpkin."

You will get an idea of the kind of week I've had that my joy at receiving some chewy (i.e. perfect, as opposed to crack-your-teeth hard) gingerbread is the most blogworthy thing that has happened to me this week. Although as my hormones seem to have left me with the short term memory of a goldfish with Alzheimers lately, something far more exciting could have happened to me, but I just can't remember it. (I shall be watching Crimewatch avidly though).

I have also been in Dover this week, to referee a slanging match between five senior citizens with too much time on their hands and to deal with a coach driver with no teeth and a back injury that he somehow got the impression I would be interested in. He was still calling after me with the details as I was running away from him.

The most worrying thing this week has been the realisation that I have to find an outfit to wear to a wedding and the subsequent reception. Not normally too much of a problem, but the ceremony is going to be in a church on 30th December. Therefore I need to find an outfit that I am not going to freeze in during the ceremony, but won't make me sweat like a menopausal woman in a sauna should I choose to get drunk and feel the need to dance. Being so soon after Christmas, I also need to find something that's going to have a bit of "give" as I resolutely refuse to diet at this time of year. Dieting is something you do with increasing panic in January, when you realise that you're going to the Caribbean in March and not only does none of your summer wardrobe fit you, but there is nothing available in the shops to replace it with. You then have the choice between living on soup, slimfast and air for three weeks, (while eating undercooked chicken in the hope of getting a slimming bout of food poisoning) or buying two dozen lurid but roomy kaftans when you get to Bridgetown.

Apparently the hen night has a dress code of "Christmas", so I think I'm going to have to buy some reindeer antlers as well.

Outfit ideas for either event on a postcard please....