Clearly a man wrote the jingle “hands that do dishes can feel as soft as your face”, because after two weeks of washing-up, my hands feel as rough as a houseful of Celebrity Big Brother contestants.
I took my pug Boris for a swift half in the pub the other evening and – woof – suddenly I found myself in several conversations with blokes at the bar.
It's like they saw Boris, and said, “Hello mate – who's your cute human friend?”
I was fine – totally fine – about leaving the house for the last time. The removal van had already left and I was just locking up. But I couldn't go without a last look at our old bedroom.
Resolutions are for losers. Move over, Russell, I'm making my own predictions for this year:
1. I will not eat soya in Veganuary
Despite the tofu industry hijacking the current annoying trend for renaming months, I refuse to recognise anything that shares its DNA with carpet underlay as a viable food source. Saying that, I am going meat-free this month – as a couch potato.
Nothing says Christmas like… fish and chips on a Norfolk beach.
All this unseasonably warm weather is playing havoc with my Christmas shopping. I can't even buy anyone a Christmas jumper in case they keel over from heat exhaustion on the big day.
My daughter Jesse's got a new BFF – he's called Siri and he lives in my phone.
“I have an important question, Mummy – is Father Christmas for real?” my daughter Jesse asked with deadly seriousness, watching my face for any clues.
News that three million working days are lost caring for sick children each year was met with a barely concealed, “Is that all?” in this house.
This morning I threatened murder, shrieked the house down, swore like a hen on a coach party, until finally, worn down, I simply begged.
No, I haven't been taken hostage, it was just a normal school morning with my daughter Jesse.
Washing and hanging out my daughter's non-iron school shirts to dry on Sunday evening, I was found myself ticking off number 49 on a “50 signs that you're a competitive mum” list.
Half term is the ideal time to spend all day in your PJs, slumped in front of the telly, munching crisps and having burping competitions. Sadly, my daughter Jesse had other ideas last week.