The best laid plans

Well that weekend didn't turn out how I'd planned. I was meant to be trolling down to Nottingham for my optitian's appointment (long story - don't ask). I got up at dawn's crack (not a pleasant sight I can tell you) and got to the station only for my train to be cancelled. Which meant that I had to cancel my appointment. I was bloody furious but it did mean that I was in Manchester at my favourite time of day - early morning when there's not too many people about but still a nice, buzzy atmosphere. I sat in Albert Square and nonchalantly munched on a pain-au-chocolat where I was then set upon by some European tourists asking me to take their photo. "Ah", I thought, "its only one photo. Can't hurt." 30 seconds later I had half a dozen cameras at my feet waiting for my chocolatey finger to caress their buttons. Bugger. That done, I tootled off to look round the shops and buy some underwear from M&S - a pair of hold-me-in knickers and a mind boggling bra to conceal my weapons of mass distraction under a new dress I'd bought. Mind boggling because it was one of those new-fangled ones with detachable straps that you can wear 5 different ways. I think even Prof Steven Hawking would have had trouble figuring it out. "The nature of the universe and time? No problem! 5 way bra? Nope, no idea mate." Not to mention fumbling with the straps but I suspect I'm straying into bad taste here so I'll move on.

Popped over to a party at a friend's in the evening, enjoying the company of my compatriots from the theatre and quaffing some Ernest & Julio White Grenache. So quaffable that you feel like you're drinking pop - until the giddyness sets in. And my role as unintentional comedienne was fulfilled as I sat in a garden chair next to Hazel, speculating on the colour of a chap's eyebrows. You see, he has grey hair and a grey beard but dark eyebrows. My view of him was blocked so I leaned to one side in the chair, not realising that one of the legs was only precariously balanced on the edge of a flower bed. Down I go accompanied by much laughter - most of it from me (I told you that wine was good). I live to entertain. I had a good night, with our hostess topping up my glass every five minutes, up until approx 1am when I felt very ill. Needless to say, the entirety of yesterday was spent trying not to throw up the water I was trying to drink. I'm still a bit rough today but at least I'm off for a couple of days so I can recover whilst watching daytime TV. Or should that be in spite of watching daytime TV?