And when he pulls his frilly nylon panties right up tight

Yesterday evening was spent painting the ceiling of the hall, stairs and landing.

Today my neck is only marginally more flexible than the Vatican's views on contraception.

Unable to look down, I dressed using only my sense of touch. I have no idea what I'm wearing, if fashion hags Trinny or Susannah would approve or indeed if individual garments belong to me or the close personal friend.

I suspect it may appear to the world as though I was dressed by an explosion in an Oxfam shop.