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particular day. Eventually I choose a pair of khaki cargo pants, a snug white rollneck jumper, and sneakers. The festive touch is achieved by the addition of a pair of dangly gold earrings. Fully dressed, I walk back over to the mirror and check out the effect. Not bad – casual yet compelling. And, now that it is firmly held in place, I can barely see my rear end at all. I head into the ensuite to brush my teeth, blow-dry my hair and throw on a little foundation.
    While I’m in there, I rinse down the remains of this morning’s bubbles in the spa bath, fish out the soap and straighten up the shampoos lined along the edge. Then I strip my bed and remake it with clean sheets. This accomplished, I grab the dirty sheets and use them to wipe the coffee ring under my cup before taking them, and my coffee, downstairs, where I deposit the sheets in the washing machine and the coffee in the microwave.While it’s heating up, I grab a pen, write a list of plans for the day and then fasten the completed list on the fridge behind a magnet of a bejewelled Tutankhamen. I stand back to examine it.

    MONDAY
Phone calls
  –  
Library, C/Cleaners, Dennis, Mum, Cam, Diane, Thomas, Uncle Laurie & Auntie June
Morning
  –  
Shopping: baby present, new d/gown
  –  
Milk, bread, rice, muesli, corn chips, box of chocolates
  –  
Visit Bronte
  –  
Get some videos
Afternoon
  –  
Drop the chocolates off at Stephen’s to say thanks
  –  
Relax/watch videos?
  –  
Do my tax return?
  –  
Start reading Gone with the Wind?
Evening
  –  
Fergus coming over
    Looks perfect. I’ve had Gone with the Wind sitting by my bed since Christmas and still haven’t got around to reading it. As for the tax return, that’s been on top of my ‘to do’ pile for the past month. So now is my chance for both maybe – and plenty more. Yes, it should be a nice, relaxing day but there’s nothing like careful organisation. This is something that I learnt (read: was drummed into me) during the three years I spent in the armed services before marrying Dennis. The six p’s: prior preparation prevents piss-poor performance. And if there’s one thing we heroes can’t tolerate, it’s piss-poor performance.
    This is going to be just great.
MONDAY
1100 hrs
    Flaming hell! Why does nothing ever go the way I bloody well want it to? I slam the gearstick back into third and scream around the corner onto Burwood Highway. Some bloke in a Falcon ute honks at me impatiently but I ignore him because I refuse to indulge in road rage. Normal rage is more than enough for me at the best of times – and today is one of those times. From a great start, my morning thus far has turned out to be a severe trial. The carpet cleaners can’t come until tomorrow morning, by which time my carpet should be permanently set in tie-dye pink moss. My ex-husband is on a cruise with one of his string of blonde girlfriends and so can’t be contacted. My best friend, Camilla, had already left by the time I got through to her number and then, when I rang my mother, somehow I found myself agreeing to pick her up this morning and take her with me to the hospital to visit. Which means, knowing my mother, that I’ll probably end up having her with me for the whole day.
    Then, by the time I finished with all these calls and finally rang Diane, not only had she already heard the happy news but she’d passed it on to the rest of the family and was on her way to the hospital as we spoke. Literally – as I rang her on her mobile. Diane is Camilla’s eldest sister as well as the mother of Bronte’s fiancé, Nicholas, so therefore the new baby is a direct descendant of hers as well as mine. I suppose we’re all almost related now. Diane has four boys, of whom Nick is the eldest, and twin baby girls, which probably means she