My nose is gently subsiding - thanks to all who expressed concern. No longer honking like a warthog, so that's good.

Jeans. What did people do before they were invented? More specifically, like most of the female population, I wear bootcuts. Hipsters are difficult for me. Not only am I the wrong shape in general, and far too large bluntly, but I don't like a lot of pressure on my scar, and my belly is a funny shape after the op. Also, I have to say that unless you are a size 8 with snake like hips, a blobby muffin top is not an attractive look, no matter who you are. And don't get me started on having your thong hanging out the back - put it away already, especially in the workplace. Just eewwww.

So anyway, I'm going to be spending a few days with my dear friend Leila after Easter, and thought that as I haven't been clothes shopping for ages, I would buy a new pair of jeans. And, for the record, I had decided that I would not be stuck in my bootcut rut, but be bold and venture into a slouch, a straight leg or something similar. So off I trotted, and disappeared into the changing room laden with hangers. And guess what I ended up buying? Yes, wearily, bootcuts. They fitted, they were comfortable, my bum looked great, my scar was no bother, fab. All the various others were wrong in some way. Too tight, too bulgy, too baggy where they shouldn't be, too long (one pair were designed for someone on stilts), too uncomfortable, too much digging in the belly, so you just know that after an hour or two of wearing them, you can't wait to get them off, break wind and breathe again. I also bought two bras, one of which is a fabulous balcony one with really pretty apricot striped cups - very springlike. Although today, the weather has been a blustery storm, with frequent cold showers. We had a phone call this morning from one of our greyhound friends to say that her BT line was out due to last night's storm, along with most of her neighbours, and BT would not be fixing it until after Easter. Humph. She lives in Pembrokeshire, which apparently had a bad night. Thankfully, like most people these days, she has a mobile, but of course it is difficult for internet connections. On Sunday, we are helping out at the GRW show - I am still nervous, but also looking forward to it, and hoping the weather improves. It will be odd to see the floor in the spare bedroom - at the moment, it is covered in cards. The dogs are most confused.

Yesterday, Andy did a superb surrealist collection again. He collected his old friend the rug, the oven glove, the oven glove's hook that attaches it to the end of the worktops, a plastic sieve that I'd used for draining some vegetables I'd cooked and my handbag. He dragged it upstairs twice, each time leaving a trail of contents, not eaten just scattered. When I went into the front bedroom he was lying on the bed, contentedly lying among the spoils of war, looking very pleased with himself. So, I went back out and picked up the trail of lipgloss, pens, tissues, diary, notebook and assorted other handbag contents. Female readers will know that handbags generally have an ability to attract a variety of objects, that either may come in handy at some unspecified point in the future or have landed in the handbag by some mysterious vortex in the space/time continuum. Mine is no different.

To all my readers, a very happy Easter.