Plenty of nuttn'

Of course, the plenty of nutt'n that I got is actually "stuff to talk about" rather than "worldly possessions", which is what I believe the original song referred to. Can't really claim to have nutt'n in the way of worldly possessions. Not that I'm flash, you understand. It's just that I only ever seem to talk about my shallow twivial existence involving buying stuff and consuming stuff. Which is a relatively depressing state of affairs when I stop to think about it.

So in a break from usual conspicuous consumption programming, I will tell you about how I went on a nice 5-mile run (the "nice" bit being the smug feeling when I think back to it, rather than the experience of slogging around it) and saw the moon looking like a little sliver of fingernail. And marvelled at how many bits of dead branch there were on the pavements from all that windy weather. Do you think the trees like it, in the way your hairdresser encourages you to regularly trim off all those nasty dead split ends?

And about how today I spent the morning at the Peacock Theatre in London doing the sound check for the PwC Panto (Puss in Boots), which kicks off on Tuesday. It seems to be looking quite good, from what I can see from down in the pit (i.e. nothing). And Puss him(her)self is certainly going to keep a good proportion of the audience happy as she slinks around in a skin-tight... erm... CATsuit and knee boots. Of course, this is probably a useful distraction, since the Miller's son (i.e. Principal Boy) is rather pregnant. Don't worry - the kids won't notice. They mostly can't tell that she's a girl, bump or no bump. Jack (of and the Beanstalk fame last year) has spectactularly ample busty substances (Pete & Dud), but none of the liddle chiddlers worried about that.

Skirt twizzle

I have just bought a nice new skirt, but have discovered a major problem with it. It twizzles round as I walk along (not in a rapid, comedy-bow-tie way, though: just a slow but inexorable anti-clockwise twist).

This means that even over short distances, the front migrates firstly over to my left leg, then completely round to the back. I've not yet walked far enough to discover whether it will ultimately self-correct and get all the way back to the front.

I can't work out why it does this. In particular, why does it always turn anti-clockwise? I thought at first that it was because I was carrying a heavy bag on one shoulder. But even without the bag it does the same thing. Is there a solution? The skirt has a very obvious front and back, so ignoring it is not the answer.

The Great Gravy Mystery

For weeks I have been tormented by a most embarrassing problem. It is almost too difficult to confess. I... er.. that is... um... my handbag smells of gravy. There it is. I've said it now. Mock if you dare.

For TWO WEEKS I have been carrying, in every sense, this great bisto-flavoured weight - terror striking my heart that someone would realise that the comforting aroma of oxo was emnating from my arm furniture.

But tonight, when I realised that even my credit cards were starting to get a slightly stocky whiff, I tracked down and sniffed out the source of the sauce. It was not, in case you are getting anxious, an unfortunate lunch spillage. It was a HUGE vitamin pill that I was given whilst suffering an epic hangover before Christmas. The hangover being of dimensions even greater than the pill, I had at the time been unable to consider swallowing it down, so tucked it into a tiny pocket in my bag for safekeeping. And forgot about it.