Twinkle, twinkle little star...

So the filming is to be done on Wednesday afternoon.  The husband, who is to join us for a chat when he gets back from work, is under strict instructions to shower and change before he gets in front of the camera.  As a building site project manager, his t-shirt colour choice is always of the hi-vis type, and at times, my washing line can resemble a pack of highlighter pens. 

I have dressed the husband for many years, and even now, he is not allowed to shop for clothes on his own.  He has a penchant for the slightly gaudy t-shirt, usually embellished with some shiny stuff and italic writing, and has come home with some real fashion disasters over the years.  These are usually made to do an immediate U-turn and head straight back to the store, without even getting out of the bag. 

So you can see, when the lovely television lady was talking me through what I should wear on Wednesday - no stripes, large flowers or blatant advertising (bang goes the sweatshirt I have ordered with 'Follow the Bird!' emblazoned across my bosom), it was with some trepidation that thought turned to the husband's choice of outfit for the interview.

I raised this over dinner last night.  His face dropped. 

'Can I wear my t-shirt saying what a brilliant dad I am?'

'No'.

'What about the one about having an awesome wife?'

'Tempting, but still no'.

'The one which says I love bacon?'

'No'.

How about the one about starting the weekend again as I wasn't ready?'

'It will be Wednesday, so hardly applicable,  But even if it was Monday, it would still be no'.

'Surely the one about you knowing everything would be ok?'

'Totally accurate of course, but still no'.

God knows what he'll come down in.  He's threatening me with getting a t-shirt which says 'I'm married to a menopausal old dragon', which although not strictly true, might prove to be a bit of an ice breaker with the film crew.  It may also be the last t-shirt he ever wears...ever.

So I will choose his clothes for filming, and woe betide him if he veers away from the plain, sensible, clean shirt and trousers I lay out for him.  Mind you, I could always lay out his Beetlejuice dressing up costume which he is rather fond of.  ITV could be looking at a different type of programme altogether if he wore that.

The funniest thing to happen is that they have decided to film the two dogs rather than the four children.  Up till now, I haven't been able to tell them that their fifteen minutes of fame has been usurped by two scruffy balls of fluff, so kids, I am sorry. 

I'm quite relieved to be honest, as I was slightly worried as to what they were going to say about me given half the chance.

At least Percy and Reg can keep a secret or two...