Salad days...
So the ghost of Christmas past is still lying prostrate on the sofa, feebly demanding cups of tea, small slices of sausage plait and decongestant tablets. Such is the lot of a woman with a sickly other half. Like I don't have enough to do over Christmas... Luckily, the husband managed to rally sufficiently to join me, several children and other family members at the pantomime on Friday night. Two hours of laughter courtesy of Bradley Walsh, and two hours of drooling thanks to Martin Kemp seemed to work for us ladies, but the men had Tinkerbell. A rather annoying girl in pink spandex shorts, clip on wings and a lot of zhuzhed up net curtains. The way the husband looked at her, it might be a look to adopt on his next birthday....or not. I'm not sure that there is enough net left in the world to drape around my post Christmas bulk, and I might have to resort to a pair of flesh coloured Spanx instead of the sparkly shorts, but hopefully, he'll get the idea of what I a