Living the High Life

So, we're going to a friend's wedding tomorrow. This has involved a certain amount of primping and preening, mild hilarity over friend's inability to type (or eat, or rub her eye, or hold a pen) with her new posh fingernails, and of course the quest for decent outfits. Over the last few days I've watched mutual friends discuss the whole hat issue, get their hair sorted, find the perfect glamourous top, and I've felt gradually scruffier and less-well prepared.

Tonight though, in a new low as far as wedding prep is concerned, I accidentally de-flead myself. Turns out, if you take a cat the size of a medium dog in one arm, and a small Spot On Flea drop treatment in the other, you are quite likely to liberally spray yourself with the delousing agent as you attempt to get it open.

Ack Ptptptptpbtbtbtbpah is I believe the correct phrase to utter under these circumstances. The cats generally follow this by shooting out through the cat flap to roll on the grass, but I felt this would probably not add much to the overall effect.

So, fellow wedding guests, when you see me tomorrow I may indeed be substantially less glamourous and more covered in children and babywipes and dribble (not my own. Well, probably not my own) than the rest of you. But please rest in comfort knowing that I shall be blood-sucking parasite free.

Meanwhile, in other news, Little Fish asked me to sing me her favouritest song ever before bed tonight. Which song? "Ali One." Don't know it? Nor did I, until she added more lyrics for me. "Ali One, Ali Two, Ali Three, Ali Four" - Ah, the CBeebies Birthday song.

Sometimes I think my life may be not entirely similar to that of those around me.

Tia