with my personal trainer.
Now I know it's not the sort of thing you share with the world, especially as I'm a happily married woman, however I just can't keep our weekly assignations to myself. In the snapshot of yours truly you will see I'm positively glowing. That's because I've just got down and dirty with Henry on the carpet.
Yes you've guessed it, he's my vacuum cleaner.
Being a slothful sort of a lass, usually on Fridays I wave my feather duster in the air like a fairy sprinkling fairy-dust. With a puff of polish in the atmosphere - the job's done.
This Friday something stirred; Henry was got out of his hiding place, given a tummy tuck and off we went. Now if you've read an earlier post of mine you will know that this little cottage is all stairs. Crampons on, Henry and I clawed our way past the tumbleweed and dross gathered on the steps. Abseiling down we puffed and panted, sucked and blew leaving no stone unturned.
Am I in danger of becoming houseproud?