A parental summit took place yesterday, with Steve’s parents and my mum coming over for lunch. It was the first time they’d met, and we hoped they’d get on. Steve cooked lunch, I removed potentially offensive magnets from the fridge (‘Oh shit – I turned into my mother’ and ‘You suck big time’ – both gifts, I’ll have you know), and made sure the bedroom had nothing in it to suggest that anything other than sleeping took place in it, ever. However, I neglected to remove two packs of cigarettes from on top of the TV (both purchased about a year ago and mostly unsmoked), and my copy of Cunt from the bookshelf. The same bookshelf Steve’s parents perused with interest.

Four dresses and one c1960 Louis Feraud coat on eBay: £35
Haircut at little Japanese place in Covent Garden where they don’t speak much English and you look through a book of haircuts and pick one and they interpret it to suit you: £30 (a bargain in London)
Manicure: free, cos I do it myself at home
MAC lipstick in Lady Bug: £11
Feeling attractive and cute: priceless (or £76. Either way, I think that’s a bargain)

Last night we made a recipe from Saturday’s Guardian. It had three ingredients: frozen fish fingers, a tin of Heinz tomato soup, and grated cheese. It was absolutely delicious, despite being a violent orange colour, and we counteracted the salt & additives by serving it with broccoli and granary bread. And Miss Marple on the telly.