Write page three of your autobiography.
My Mum stood up and said, ‘I don’t remember coughing.’ Then she realised her waters had broken.
[Insert several photographs of an old cottage suite with a damp patch]
Tell us about a guilty pleasure that you hate to love.
Where do I start? Not with anything I’ve already told to death:
- Maltesers (make me fat)
- Twilight (makes me stupid)
- Tormenting WordPress prompters (makes them look fathead stupid and may get me kicked off WordPress one day)
I’ll tell you about my latest guilty pleasure, as of this morning:
The Hub bought me a laptop for Christmas. My back still aches from sitting at the computer way too long, though regular breaks help (thank you, readers, for the tips). The Hub nagged until I heard him and, as a result, I have spent this morning lying on the couch, under my Vivquilt and laptop, snug against the cold and resenting toilet breaks. I may never get up again. That being so, this couch may end up looking like my mother’s.
A writer once said, “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” If this is true, which five people would you like to spend your time with?
- Jesus (to be good, kind, tolerant and loving)
- The Hub (to be confident and attractive)
- Tory Boy (to be smart and funny)
- Spud (to be smart and funny) (no favouritism from this mother)
- The head of Mars Confectionery (to be Malteser available at all times)
What question do you hate to be asked? Why?
What exactly is in this dish I’m eating?
‘Don’t ask; don’t tell’ is my motto.
Describe your last attempt to learn something that did not come easily to you.
How to turn off my phone. It did not end well, for the phone or my finger. Spud showed me an acceptable compromise: how to put it on ‘Silent’. If only the Hub had such a button.
Explore the room you’re in as if you’re seeing it for the first time. Pretend you know nothing. What do you see? Who is the person who lives there?
I see a stain on the couch; it must be my mother’s house.