Ah, this is lovely.
Just a few minutes more, there's nothing sweeter than a nice long, hot, soak.
There's plenty of time, won't matter if I'm a bit late.
I'll be dressed in no time, I've done my nails, the dress is lying on the bed, I'll rough-dry my hair, everything is under control.
But this is so nice.
Almost wouldn't mind if I didn't have to go.
It's a pity I have to go out, it's a filthy night and there'll be a lot of boring people there;
I bet the Cholmondely-Browns will be there, can't stand her; she's such a cow. She's bound to have some new piece of jewellery to flash. Oh bother, Jay said that Andrew will be there too; since I've dumped him he keeps on making sheep's eyes at me, how am I going to avoid him all evening. God, and the food, the Smythe's always have such awful food, all hot and spicy and dry. And after the first bottle they'll start serving cheap plonk. I'm bound to have a headache tomorrow.
Hm, water's getting a bit cool, I'll just let in a bit more hot.
Do I really have to go?
Do I want to go?
Wouldn't be polite, not to go.
Will they notice?
Does it matter?
I'd better go, I suppose. I won't be invited again if I don't go.
Where did I put the bathrobe?
Ah, this is cosy,
Oh, sod it all, I'm not going, I'm staying home. It's wet and windy, the heels hurt my feet, I'm all crinkly and wrinkly from lying in the water for so long. They won't even notice that I'm not there. And if they do, I'll tell them I had a last minute emergency.
Desperate Housewives is on the box and there's a glass or two left in the bottle in the fridge.
Ah, this is cosy.
Willow's Magpie Tales no. 28