Flat-line...
Sitting down at my desk to write my blog, I was on the point of telling you all that I wouldn't be making an appearance this morning. But do you know, I am made of stronger stuff than that, and will not allow myself to be beaten by a PIECE OF FLAT-PACK FURNITURE. Yesterday was Day Three in my plan to bring daughter number two's bedroom to full anonymity, ready to house whoever should need a bed for the night. The last few things to go in yesteday were a new mattress, a small rug and a new dressing table. The rug was okay, despite looking like a day old ham sandwich with its curly corners, and I'll come back to the mattress later, but the dressing table... oh dear God. Two hours it said on the packaging, although it didn't say whether these were two consecutive ones, or one on a Wednesday afternoon and another the following day, with 18 hours spent between the two scavenging around the floor for daft looking screws and trying to work out which way round the d