While I was grilling my breakfast bacon this morning and wafting the door to get rid of the acrid blue smoke I was hit by another bout of shame. Cleaning the oven was on my pre-Christmas list but it didn't happen so now we were at a critical point. So, out came the oven cleaner, the rubber gloves and the brillo pads. William asked me what was going on - were we having more visitors, was I feeling OK, what made me decide to do it? Cheek.
I am pleased to report that should Mr Darcy decide to drop by unexpectedly for supper I am prepared! Should he choose to glide his hand up my flannelette pyjama leg he'll find smooth, silky soft legs (still akin to a bag of porridge but definitely not hairy!) Should he care to look he'll find my racks gleaming. No, that's not a euphemism - my oven racks really are sparkly and shiny like new.
Is it sad that I am happy that my oven is clean? I think we will be eating soup for a few weeks so I don't have to cook anything in it and make it dirty :)
Whenever you are ready, Mr Darcy .....