I have cleaned our kitchen and nobody can ever enter it again. There was an unfortunate incident with some salad dressing and my Prada shoes. I now have a kitchen floor on which you could ice skate and very shiny shoes with a faint whiff of vinegar about them. Oh well, at least it looks less like Baghdad.
I still feel very unwell; so does Mr Smith. It's probably his turn as he has been rather good throughout Christmas. I have now used up my entire energy walking the dog and performing household tasks and feel my bed beckoning; move over Mr Smith. We're down to the last Lemsip. Maybe we will just cancel New Year.
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