P.S.

P.S. And anyhow, I should have been more organised because obviously the coats are not going to dry before tomorrow. And it's snowing. What was I thinking? Clearly not only can I not write like Virginia Woolf (or anyone else for that matter), neither can I excel in the best mother in the school playground competition.

And I'm about to make a shepherd's pie which will take longer to cook than the kids can wait, partly because (and the 'because' refers not to the fact that I'm making the pie, but to the fact that the said pie won't be ready by tea-time) I'm writing this and prevaricating in lots of small ways; by being un-necessarily wordy for one example, the others (examples, that is) about which you don't even need to know. (see!!?)

Peeling potatoes? Ugh!