How can one get anything done on a Saturday when one can barely walk down the street? Everywhere is flooded with Saturday-speed people (they need no explanation – you know the type I mean) and every step (every single step!) you take is hindered by someone stopping/chatting/pointing/looking in their bag/changing direction for no apparent reason. Don’t they know that I need to find a super-high denier pair of tights to go with my Tara Jarmon dress (eeeeeeeeee, yes, my very own Tara Jarmon…but this is another story for different day) for a super important and exciting wedding in a couple of weeks? Tight shopping on a Saturday is a strict no-go from here on in. In fact, as the most intolerant person I know, I think it would be wise to stay firmly behind closed doors on a Saturday, or at least not attempt a task nearly as important as buying tights to go with my dress (did I mention it’s Tara Jarmon? heee)…..gimme a Tuesday off work any day!

So, after the failed attempt at shopping and prompt return to the flat, this Saturday afternoon has turned into one of those in which I tidy the shelves in my wardrobe, practise walking (well, dancing) in my new ludicrously high heels, wash the bed-linen, do some ironing and spend some pure, unadulterated time with Del Shannon…all whilst taking occasional sips from a glass of wine. Lavely jabbly. Now I’m waiting for the boy to return from work so I can whip up a feast and sit cosily in front of the box, far-far away from the Saturday crowds.