Oh lord, I NEVER want to have to iron anything ever again.

The past two nights have been devoted to standing awkwardly over an ironing board, flattening and straightening literally hundreds of samples for the business (mega important photoshoot this Friday, eek!) Can any household chore compete for complete tedium and laboriousness with ironing I wonder? Worse still, I’d run out of wine, so had to do it stone-cold sober. And I’d run out of Haribo.

However, now it is done, and I can muse upon the day. DB1 has actually (for once) been incredibly angelic today, not mention bloody cute to boot. Our tedious drive to Exeter was punctuated by telling stories (inevitably involving tens of different sorts of animals, all bizarrely called ‘Duncy’, ‘Huncy’ or occasionally, for a bit of variation, ‘Oofy’.) and listening to Steps ‘Greatest Hits’. Yes, it’s my album. Yes, I own it unashamedly and without any smug, pompous irony whatsoever. I like Steps. Deal with it. DB1 really liked it too, which would probably draw OH to conclude that that was the average age of the audience members of such a musical act.

DB1 was also angelic whilst I talked shop with BP (business partner…keep up with abbreviations please!) as was DB2, who, for a change, DIDN’T do a massive exploding dump- he normally seems to save up all his faecal matter until the most inconvenient location, before firing it out in a huge messy squelch down his trouser legs and up his back.

The peace, uncharacteristically, also continued at home, though I was a bit perturbed by DB1 informing me that we ‘needed to buy some dope’. I SWEAR (before you again reach for the phone to call social services), that I did not teach him to say this. Nor have I ever made him go out and purchase any narcotics on my behalf. Just wanted to clarify that. When he’s had his third birthday, he can buy my special brew at the off licence, but until then… (JOKE. No, please, phone receiver down…)

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