A picture speaks a thousand words

I do hope no-one saw me when I was doing Poo Patrol round the garden this morning.

In the same way as we have comfort food, I have comfort clothes. Did I tell you I've been suffering with man-flu? Daughter said, 'Wouldn't you be in bed if you had that?'
'No, that's the whole point: women with man-flu just carry on.'

I actually have real man-flu in that my symptoms aren't as bad as the fuss I'm making. I don't get ill very often so I moan a lot. In truth I just have a runny nose, a dry throat and earache, but it's enough for me to feel sorry for myself.

So, anyway, shall I paint a picture for you?

I have showered and even brushed my hair but that's it. I'm not wearing make-up and I never do anything without something round my eyes to give them a bit of definition and make them look less piggy. My black polo-neck - a definite no-no if you listen to Trinny and Suzannah, which I do normally - is on its third day of wear. Over it is 'old faithful' lilac cardi. Baggy and holey, I don't mind if George swings from it. Then it's pale grey jogging trousers, which could make Victoria Beckham appear fat. It's very wet outside so I've put on Husband's old brown work-shoes (minus laces that George has eaten) as they're easier to slip on and off than wellies. They're too big for me and you know how you have to walk in a funny way if your shoes aren't on properly ...? I'm also holding up my trouser legs to stop them dangling in the puddles, thus revealing bright pink socks.

How do you like the picture I've painted?

I really hope nobody saw me.