Peter Jones was chocca with infants in prams being dragged around the sale. Seems there has been a sudden population explosion in Chelsea and au pairs are out of fashion. It was rather vile so we escaped into Patisserie Valerie and enjoyed a cream tea. Am becoming a very grumpy old woman.
Cabbed back home - the cabbie used to live in Perronet House and had a chance to buy his flat, but bought a pokey place in Tooting and has regretted it ever since. Had a quick sparkling wine in Lye Torng and came home.
No sooner than I had tucked into some leftovers and started soap watching than Dorothy rang to invite me out to Arbutus for dinner. By this time I had eaten far too much and the effort of staggering about in Chelsea had exhausted me.
I shall have to put my spare crackers away until next year unless I can rapidly invent a single person cracker-pulling mechanism. Closing a door on one half while pulling the other half? Tragic, really. I am tempted to dismantle the tree tomorrow, in advance of Twelfth Night.
I never managed to change the sofa covers, which are decidedly grubby, before Christmas. I am also inclined to take the arm off the sofa and put it on the other end. I could then slide the sofa back into a corner to the left of the doorway. Then the table would fit in where the sofa now is. Might make the room look larger. The curtains need to come down for washing and alteration too. but cannot get them down.
The retirement home beckons.
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