I Love You Marmite

Last night, cruising through Angel looking for Valentine's accessories for my humble abode (which I've decided to turn into the Moulin Rouge for the evening of the 14th), I found what I can only call the Best Valentine's Present Ever. Yes, it's I Love You Marmite, a "limited edition" Marmite pot with added champagne extract. Completely unnecessary and yet somehow entirely fabulous.

Instantly I purchased one for the Boy du Jour (if it turns out he doesn't like Marmite then we obviously were never meant to be) and called the Wicked Stepmum to suggest she gets one for dad, who is also a bit of a Marmite fiend.

"DARLING," she said, hooting with laughter. (Sorry, WS, but that's pretty much how it was;) "I've just found the exact same thing in the jewellery shop in the village. They're doing them with special silver lids. Your father will think it's just TERRIBLE but really it seems more than apt."

Oh well, great minds I suppose. Hmm, a silver Marmite lid... she's right, it is terrible, and yet somehow... but no. I must stop this chain of thought at once.

Later that night, as the Moulin Rouge plan crystallised, I hit on another genius idea. Why not send the Boy a series of themed photos over the course of the day before he arrives at mine - a flash of costume, a feathered mask, a bare shoulder with a feather boa falling seductively across it. What could be more simple and yet effective?

Simple my ass. Hell, I know the costume I've put together is awesome (never mind what he thinks, I fancy the heck out of myself in it), but arranging a sultry pose and then finding a way to take a picture of it yourself without a) falling over, b) pulling a stupid face or c) covering half the shot with the camera itself is bloody hard work. Two hours of hard work resulted in five just-about-acceptable photos which I've saved in a well-hidden folder and refuse to look at again until I've had a large glass of wine this evening. If they pass muster, then great. If not, it's into the deleted bin before I accidentally send them to my mother.

I'd share a few of the more successful ones with you, O Best Beloved, but I'm not sure we know each other well enough just yet.