The Bayeux Tapestry

The Apprentice is back from France with gifts. He has been to Bayeux and bought me back a bit of the tapestry to sew. I made an instant start, you know me, but it involves Bayeux stitch which is mighty tricky. I followed the instructions but somehow mine doesn't look like theirs. There are lots of horses in a boat - mine looks like dogs in a lorry. Oh well, I will continue.

Having watched Grand Designs last night, I decided a bit of prefabrication for my housing project is required, so this morning I cut out a zillion bits of fabric so all I have to do is sew them together but I am now too fatigued.

Mr Smith and I went to Kingston yesterday TOGETHER. Sometimes it's nice being married to a man who doesn't mind pulling a tartan shopping trolly through the market.

Honey, they're all home

Mr Smith and I were enjoying a house full of just us but it looks like we have incoming customers. The Apprentice is coming back from France today and the Student (Birthday Boy) will probably be flitting by at some point. Twenty one today. Maybe I will make some more rainbow cakes - always a good idea to have some in reserve and be Supermum. Then I have to go and change all the things I bought with the student the other day as he either doesn't like them or wants them in a baggier size.

I am enormously fat after my week of awful lazy eating. A diet of some sort is definitely required - well, probably not of some sort but one of less fattening food. If I get any larger I might explode and I am not sure Mr Smith knows where to find the dustpan and brush.

Honey, he's home

I cleaned and preened our house ready for the return of Mr Smith who messed it all up in three seconds flat, dumping his horrible golf clubs in the hall and everything else everywhere else. He discovered I had been living off a diet of cupcakes and wine for the past five days. I don't think I will die just because 5-a-day didn't feature!

I went to Zumba at 9.15am which felt like the middle of the night. After moving and grooving, I enjoyed my last outdoor swim of the year - it was a bit parky. During my class I did have a quick shufti at the other ladies. I might be a bit fat but I am a better mover than most of them. I'm a bit stupid at picking up the routines but once I get them I'm quite wiggly and in time. I absolutely love Zumba although it is very hard work.

Twenty one

I am painting Mrs Rousseau mowing the jungle and I am so bored with all that foliage; perhaps I will introduce a dinosaur. Actually, there is the tiger lurking in a corner. I'm saving him as the best bit.

I spent yesterday with the Student who is about to be twenty one. Oh my goodness, where did the time go? I remember him hating school and me reading to him and cuddling him alot and suddenly he's 21. I love him as a mother should. He will always be my baby boy.

I made amazing rainbow cakes yesterday and this morning Mad Carina came round "Oooh how I love chemicals" she said biting into a rainbow cake. I tried to paint my jungle; she was a welcome distraction.

Lovely love

Aqua Zumba was a bit like dancing through treacle this morning. I was going to go to an incredibly gruelling dance class last night but got waylaid by Internet Dating Jane's lovely Mum who gave me a stable bucket of wine and a delicious dinner. I envy Jane who looks so in love she could burst. Those first flourishes of romance are so special. It makes me yearn for Mr Smith to return from Turkey in a bad mood with golf stories.

Off to Farnham today to replace the Student's tea towels and take him some birthday cakes. Supermum.

I finished off three paintings yesterday and am working on the final one. Well done me!

Mrs Smith is working

Paint paint paint. I'll let you know how it goes.

OMO at last

How I yearned to be on my own. I took the student back to Farnham with his new clothes and returned to the dog. I stroked his ears and we both let out a large sigh of relief before curling up on the sofa together to watch Downton Abbey with no interruptions ... for once.

Today, after the physical jerks (Zumba), the Lovely Claudia is coming to play. We will no doubt smoke cigarettes and talk about sex and shopping - not necessarily in that order - whilst her ten year old niece, with whom she has been lumbered for half term, makes my kitchen sticky performing cupcakes.

In truth, I don't seem to be on my own much this week at all and just when I am, Mr Smith will reappear with tales from Turkey ... of golf.

How tarty exactly is leopard skin?

Last night I went to a drinks party where there was much champagne. I ended up sloshed, as usual, but was still able to stagger home sort of upright. I remember telling our host I hated his wallpaper ... twice. I then had a long conversation with someone I thought was someone else and got groped by the statutory groper who was wearing far too much smelly aftershave. At this party there was a very beautiful lady of 60 something who was slightly fat, wearing leopard skin print and brown leather trousers and when I grow up I want to be her. She looked so elegant and somehow not a bit tarty but just chic and her plumpness made her look cosy. I want to be more elegant and less elephant. If I wore leopard print I'd look like I was on the game. Actually I do have a lsp bra somewhere that gets dragged out for the occasional anniversary but I am too fat for the matching pants.

So much for my time alone. The Student is at home. It is his birthday next week - 21. Good grief, my baby is going to be twenty one. As he has no idea what he wants for his birthday, I suggested a shopping trip where he can get some new clobber paid for by his Mumsie. Much to my amazement he didn't shy at the idea - must have got over that thing of "Could you walk on the other side of the road so if we meet anyone I know they don't think I am shopping with my mother." And where is his father? In Turkey playing stupid golf.

Painting the blues away

The wonderful works of Diaghilev have inspired me to paint, well at least to draw. It doesn't matter what I draw I just need to cover paper with colour and figures and design and just see what comes out. I am supposed to be exhibiting something in a show in November - perhaps I could get my act together and produce a new painting. Everyone goes away tomorrow so the dog and I can enjoy a week in the workroom interrupted only by stretches of leg and occasional nosh. No tv, no endless meals, no constant demands and bed when we feel like it ... heaven.

Last night the full company were present for inedible dinner. They never help but they certainly moan. They all ate mountains of it whilst delivering what they call Constructive Criticism. I looked up Undercooked Pork on Google and discovered it went to school with my brother. Actually, I found there was nothing wrong with it in this country so sadly I have failed to actually kill anyone.

Mr Smith is off to Turkey to play golf. The Apprentice is off to France to stand still with the rest of France which has currently ground to a complete halt - he'll find out when he gets there. The Student is off to his University; I don't care if it's reading week - go and read ... there and not here. I have never wanted to be alone so much in all my life.

Magic potion

It was cold at the sea but, as always, very beautiful. The moon was almost full with a tiny slice missing on one side. So I was only partially loony.

I met up with my pub quiz team and failed to answer most of the questions and dodge the advances of most of the builders who seem to be under the impression I'm a good time girl desperate for a shag from their overalled dirty bodies. There must be something in the water down there! I will take Mr Smith with me next time I go ... and make him drink some.

I drank a few glasses of wine in memory of absent friends and felt a bit squiffy.

I had to get up at an ungodly hour to get up to London in order to meet my mother-in-law at the V&A. She is such an angel. We enjoyed my hangover together with the works of Diaghilev which made me feel much better.

The future looks orange

I was planning a seaside retreat but my dog boy (the Apprentice) has disappeared so it looks like I am on dog duty. Oh well, I'll walk dogs then go to the sea - early dogs, late sea. It makes everything a bit squeezy but due to my magical powers I am quite good at being in two places at once.

The Apprentice crashed the boss's van yesterday. Write off. What a nit!

I am meeting up with Clamydia Lydia this evening. She has been in the Caribbean for the past two weeks so will, no doubt, be a glorious shade of brown of which I will be duly envious. I will have to book a Caribbean holiday immediately, without Mr Smith, though I am rather partial to his air miles.

Autumn is here

What a deceptive day; not to be confused with day of deception (that's tomorrow). The sun is streaming through the bedroom window warming my skin and my soul and encouraging tropical thoughts but outside it is extremely chilly, according to the dog and Mr Smith who have just returned from their morning constitutional.

After my safari to the City followed by lunch with Internet Dating Jane I went to Selfridges and got my tits eased into a bra by a bossy bra lady. I have to say I feel most lifted and separated and suddenly have enormous boobs. BB lady was very nice and hardly commented on my fat bits at all. 36D - with ramming.

Mrs Smith's burning dilemmas:
Will Mad Carina actually keep up her exercise routine?
Will ID Jane settle down with her man? I want her to be happy but I'd miss her if she went to live in Scotland and not just round the corner.
Will I ever lose any weight? Not with the mountains of lovely food I keep eating.
Will Superman land on my balcony and take me flying? OK I have to admit that is somewhat unlikely but a girl can dream.

Concentric circles

What exciting adventures do I have lined up for today? I could go to the stained glass shop in Wandsworth but I am not that excited by it even though I was quite brilliant yesterday and I can now cut perfect curves. I am going to the City to meet a lawyer about Granny's lovely money. I love the City; you can smell the money and watch the bankers throw themselves off high buildings. Then I am meeting Internet Dating Jane in the West End for lunch followed by some underwear (in my right size) shopping.

I really do have to lose weight. This is immensely boring but, like giving up smoking and booze, one feels so much better for it. I was so super exercisey yesterday but just so damned huge. All those mirrors in the dance studio just accentuate the fat bits - thank God there aren't too many at swimming or in our bedroom.

Prancing about

Still harbouring an irritating cough.

Mr Smith threw my swimsuit at me yesterday morning at what felt like the middle of the night in order to get me out of bed. The only advantage of this was that I had the pool completely to myself and swam like a ferocious shark. However, my shoulder hurts today.

It's Zumba at 10. I absolutely love Zumba even though it is truly exhausting and takes an enormous amount of concentration as well as physical effort. I am so revoltingly unfit at the moment it is definitely going to nearly kill me today. I am trying to set a good example to Mad Carina by releasing some dolphins and being all happy (and a bit knackered).

Shopping does not count as exercise

Seeing Concord, the new house on the plot of my old seaside house, was an odd experience. It wasn't to my taste but of the Grand Design style and it was very elegant in a modern glass structure sort of way. There was too much Ikea furniture but then I am of the same ilk in my seaside place. What I found very strange was the bits of me they had kept and enshrined including my self painted bathroom tiles that are now in their kitchen. I told them that mostly they were done by Designer Susan, who they loathe. They're probably trying to hack them off the wall now. There was also a very rubbish screen that I had painted and some oddments of furniture all given pride of place. Oh well, it's nice to have fans I suppose.

I had a go at Mad Carina yesterday about her static lifestyle - a bit rich coming from me who has been horizontal for the best part of two weeks. Time to get out the trainers and go for a run. I am going swimming this morning then I will nag Carina into action. Shopping is not exercise, dear friend. If it was, I'd be the leanest fittest woman in Britain.

I have a cough. It's a nasty little smokers cough. No more yucky smoking for me.

Goals for this week: Ditch this cough, cut a perfect glass circle, learn to operate my new phone, alter Claire's apron, swim, get fitter and make delicious blueberry cupcakes. Oh, and lose weight rather than put on weight.

Of course there are other things on the list such as accommodating the wants of Mr Smith and being a good wife but there is a limit to my self improvement in one week. Anyway, I'll probably be a bit tired with all the physical activity I'm planning.

Vanilla Sky

Who would choose a pedestrian lifestyle over one of mad excitement? Well, right now, I would. I do not wish to add anything to alter the blandness of all I love.

It's sunny and I have this cosy warm feeling inside my body - like internal armour. In fact today I feel invincible. I will conquer the ironing and go into battle in Sainsburys ... and win. I might change the bra I bought for one in my right size and next week I will take my dog to the seaside and walk around East Head.

Mr Smith is in a stroppy mood today. He was worse yesterday. I will take care not to excite him.

Postcards from the edge

Yesterday morning in my sunny flat overlooking the sea I felt as though I was waking up in a postcard - it was quite breathtaking. The view over the village towards the Downs was no less spectacular. It quite lifted my spirits which were a bit low - I actually felt a bit lonely. Anyway, I soon cheered up and met up with tribespeople from Bracklesham at the library headed by Designer Susan and managed to wangle myself an invitation to view the new house built on the plot of my old house - the bastards flattened it and erected a monster in its place. I am going to visit this Grand Design later today.

I went to see Rachel and baby Tarquin. Rachel gave me a painting lesson and showed me how to highlight my beach people so they reflect the sunlight and absolutely look the biz. She is so clever and so nice.

The seaside flat is now let for Christmas and New Year for an exhorbitant rent which all helps my watch fund. Mr Smith and I will have to stay at home and play nicely with no running away to the sea for the whole of Christmas.

Mrs Clean

I blitzed the kitchen and it is so clean it sparkles. Now for the rest of my life.

Blackberry picking

I skipped school (horrible stained glass class) and had lunch with the Student in Farnham. He thought my mobile phone looked a little passe so we went to visit Vodaphone. I now have a blackberry - how the heck does it work? It keeps beeping and emailing me and where's the off button? We are not getting on at all well. I'll have to ask Mr Smith, a man whose knowledge of all things technical stops at the wheel, though he is quite good at stacking the dishwasher.

Last week I sold 4 paintings. That's a good start to the watch fund. It also inspires me to do more painting.

Off to swimming - time to feel like a mermaid ... or a whale. Then I will ease my blancmange brains into some activity .. or maybe just visit Sensible Alison and her cold.

Dream boys

Mrs Smith's top sexy men:

David Cameron - have you seen him with baby Florence? Just perfect.
Boris - everyone loves Boris and his woeful infidelity just makes him more desirable.
Internet Dating Jane's new bloke - quite charming.
Mr Smith - keep the home fires burning.

Sorry if you're not on the list. Do feel free to add yourself.

Toy Boys

I met Beautiful Ethereal Pam on my foray into town. She told me she had been seeing a man 15 years her junior - well done her. She had found it a little exhausting. I have decided once you get past about 36 age doesn't really matter; younger men keep ladies youthful for longer. As I look into the mirror and see my mother staring back at me I think - maybe I should get one. Mr Smith would not need to know. On the other hand preparing oneself for a lover would be such awfully hard work. The bliss of being fat, hairy and lazy - that's my lovely Mr Smith.

I went to Bond Street and looked at watches. I tried on a pretty pink Rolex which I thought was rather expensive at £6,000. It was actually £16,000! And that's not expensive for a nice watch I can assure you. I limped to John Lewis feeling pained at my limited funds and bought pretty underwear. I can't really think why as nobody will ever see it unless I take Mad Carina's advice and wear it outside my clothes. I bought the wrong size bra because I didn't read the label properly - I'll squeeze.

I ended my perfect Saturday with a bottle of wine, an industrial sized pack of maltesers and X-Factor for mental stimulation; I was rather ill in the night. "I told you so" says Mr Smith who went to golf at 6am .. on a Sunday!

Have your cake and paint it

I am on my own. This is heaven. Mr Smith has golf all weekend and the Apprentice is working. I am off to enjoy an indulgent bit of retail exercise. I was going to do that in the week but never got a chance so I will pull on some greying shreddies and go to Selfridges in search of new underwear. Then Marylebone Lane can expect my presence.

Yesterday, Andrea and I painted and ate cupcakes and laughed a great deal and talked about stupid stuff and I showed her how to compose a painting and how to paint a painting. Applying the theory of Do what I say rather than do what I do, I was quite surprised by how clever I sounded. You'd have thought the Mona Lisa would have appeared at the end of this rather than a picture of one little cupcake.

An episode of Friends

Last night M-C rang to apologise for standing me up yesterday. I was mightily relieved of funeral duty actually but we would have had a nice lunch. She is in love ... with her husband. Burying his mother brought on a wave of emotion and he said lovely things to her and she feels appreciated and happy to burst.

Sensible Alison rang to moan about the awful cold she has caught from Unpresuming Ed. She sounded ready to die, poor lamb. I refused her kind invitation to tea until she's better and felt less guilty about having a Coven subcommittee meeting without her on Wednesday.

My friend Andrea is coming round to play this morning. Her husband has retired so she thought she'd follow suit then they found they had no dosh. In order to stop the usual dig from his elbow in the direction of employment in pursuit of a crust, she thought she'd come and do arty things with me. I made a perfect cupcake, thinking that would be a nice easy thing to paint and quite versatile in one's representation i.e. does one hint cupcake with a few slashes of the brush or paint every little hundred and thousand? The Apprentice ate it. I hate him.

Mr Smith has a whole weekend of non-stop golf and suggests the dog and I go to the seaside. Maybe, if the weather is glorious but there again perhaps I ought to pull on the Hunters, play the WAG and cheer on the golf.

Serious moonlight

The Lovely Claudia and Mad Carina came and drank eye of newt tea. We studied the entrails of a cupcake and it was decided that my future looks quite bright and rosy so I shouldn't be angry or worried. I love my friends.

The Student has been nominated for a cinematography award. What kind I am not sure but even if it's "my little first moving pictures" I will be proud. He's going to be Steven Spielberg one day.

I was so busy being a proud mother along with staring into space and trying to knit a very very difficult little dog that I forgot about the dinner. It was supposed to be very slowly cooked lamb shanks. At about 7pm the Apprentice mentioned dinner and I suddenly remembered. Oh well, fast cooked lamb shanks anyone? and we would have got away with it had the Senior Darleck not chosen that moment to trundle in and catch us shoving in the wine and rosemary onto raw meat. He was so cross. I cooked something else in a bid to appease his temper tantrum and avoid extermination.

M-C has just rung. We are not going to the funeral today after all. Oh well, what on earth shall I do instead? A bit of dancing and some swimming. Put on your red shoes and dance away the blues ... let's dance. I'll dig out the tune and yell along to David Bowie.

I feel a painting about to burst out. I absolutely love being me.

Bad mad day

Today I feel angry. I want to scream with rage and break things. How to improve my mood? Singing Walking on Sunshine very loudly and feeling like one of Catrina's waves might help. I'll make cupcakes and try not to smash them into little bits. Friends - yep, always a good idea. I'll summon the Coven - they like cakes.

Mr Smith is sensibly far away.

Knickers

I feel all sparkly this morning and ready to take on the day ... now what's happening? Aha... nothing. Nothing? I can't honestly have a whole day of nothing. Oh well, I suppose I'd better do a bit of housework or something. The dog stamped all over the bed with muddy feet (Mr Smith's side so it doesn't really matter.) I have to boil wash the sheets to remove the paw marks. And that, folks, is the highlight of my day. Maybe I'll go and buy some new underwear. I seem to be losing lots of weight so some new shreddies would be just the thing.

Internet Dating Jane is in love. Her Highland Fling with her lovely new man was just the thing. I haven't met him but he sounds absolutely splendid. I am so pleased for her as she has had to kiss some real toads to find her P Charming. I so hope this is the one.

The House of Fun

I was feeling all chirpy and bright this morning, took the Apprentice to his job in Colliers Wood, collected the dog's pills from the vet, had breakfast with Mr Smith beating him at the word today. (GTEEAANRU). I was feeling super swotty. Then I remembered I have that ghastly stained glass class to attend today. Why on earth did I take on something so goddammed difficult?

The house project is coming along nicely though I have slowed down. As inspiration I have asked friends to contribute with little snippets of fabric so they each have a house in my fabric town. I have just made Rachel's mother's house - she died last year so it's a little memorial to her. I could add a bit of Granny's mink coat I inherited - a hairy house? Perhaps not.

Anyway, I have an action packed week with lots of friends visiting and endless nice things to do. As long as Mr Smith tows the line it's quite fun being me.

Three divorces and a funeral

This past few days I have met up with three old blasts from the past to find they have all got divorced. I went to see my friend Diane from studio days. After twenty something years of marriage her husband upped and offed declaring he no longer fancied her. I thought she and Dennis were forever. I liked them both so much and I mind that they are no longer together. She looked quite lovely and I really hope there is someone else for her - she deserves to be happy.

Mr Smith left me a cryptic note - meet me under Whistlejacket in the NG. I went to the National Gallery and stood under the mighty horse admiringly. Mr Smith turned up late but at least he did turn up and hadn't run off to meet someone else. We said hello to Madame Moitessier sporting the curtains - you can buy a Mme Moitessier shopping trolly in the gift shop. We didn't. We then went to meet some friends at Champagne Charlie's - actually about forty friends for a fabulous evening. One person we hadn't seen for over 20 years was our best man - now divorced. Actually, we did think that might happen as his wife was horrid.

During the week I met a chap I hadn't seen for over three years and guess what? He's divorced. Gosh, with all these desirable men around (they are all extremely attractive) I must try to concentrate on the domestic bliss of home i.e. make a chicken stew and tumble dry the towels so Mr Smith doesn't divorce me.

On Thursday I am off to a funeral. Not mine ... as far as I'm aware.

A turbulent time

I endured a very rough night at the seaside. It was wild and stormy with huge waves, rather exciting really although I didn't sleep at all well so now I am horribly tired.

My family missed me; they had to get their own dinner and clear it up ... sort of. So nice to be wanted. Mr Smith's fort holding doesn't really extend much beyond a day.