It's alive!

Despite frizzing my hair, blowing my umbrella to shreds and melting my makeup, the London storm has found favour by stranding Boy du Jour at my house for the day.

He rocked up around lunchtime yesterday (not-so-fresh from a friend's wedding) to help me start the Great Paintworks in the flat and then stayed the night, intending to head back to the deep dark South at first light. But when first light broke it came with claps of thunder, pouring rain and a thoroughly buggered transport system. So instead of kicking him out into the wilderness (as tempting as it was) I've hooked him up to the internet and left him snugly ensconsed on the sofa under the guise of "working from home".

I can't help thinking the lightning may have struck a bit too close to home though since the last messages we exchanged suggested that instead of doing work he was actually cleaning my kitchen and scraping yesterday's paint off the paint brushes.

What kind of crazy domestic world have we slipped into?