There was so much to do between lying on the roof with PC and a pair of binoculars looking out for the space shuttle above to deciding on an outfit for the church service in the village.
The latter was a bit of a worry. I’d only agreed to attend the service because my French friends wanted to confirm their suspicions that the British didn’t even dress up for church. Of course now I was completely stressed out over what I would wear. Both of my guests looked very sharp in their understated designer summer coats, while I was still wandering around in an untidy top that only just covered my bare bottom.
In the end I settled on the dress that HJ gave me in July. All I needed to do now was battle the crowds to reach my bedroom to extract it from the wardrobe.
Dreamaticus 