I could have been enjoying the fresh, clean air of the Dales this week with my Dad and Auntie and all my other lovely relatives, but Little Miss Conscientious chose to stay at home, or more accurately work.

It's already paid off - had I gone away, I wouldn't have got the call from Rachel inviting me to join her backstage-access-all-areas at The Darkness gig in a few months time. Fab! Fab! Cheese Nazi, help me slim enough to get into that silver cat-suit in time, please!

Nor would I have got the new farm sale - complete with peacocks! Or received the emails from Cute Suit today. I was beginning to fret, having had only one since Saturday, Bum-Patting Day - God! Had it wobbled too much? Had my new bra not been quite so appealing to him as it had to me? (pink chiffon, small white polka dots, balcony style with ruching - it's really very fetching). Would I never get the opportunity to invite him over for a Birthday celebratory dinner washed down with lashings of Chablis?

He's calling tomorrow - I prattled on for so long about Justin, I didn't have time to settle any firm dates for my culinary seduction evening. I'm thinking simple starter, grilled asparugus wrapped in Serrano ham, impressive but deceptively easy main, lamb a la Cherrypie, and school pudding, la piece de resistance, Wellington Fudge with pink custard - it does it for me every time.

Tomorrow is Angel Day - I've left an offering of Flash with Bleach for my kitchen floor and treated her to Bounty kitchen roll. Don't expect to hear from me tomorrow night - I shall be purring down the phone on my newly-plumped sofa in my fresh and sparkly lounge to my fresher and sparklier potential new beau. Tee Hee!