Knowing Your Lines In The Garden And At The Book Launch

Round and round we go, three sheets to the wind, or that’s the plan at least as social calendars and kits collide

IF I’d realised our rotary washing thingy was such a convoluted contraption I wouldn’t have tried to tighten one of its sagging lines while my king size sheets flap about in a light breeze. So much for good intentions. You see, instead of tensing the darned thing I seem to have triggered a mass drooping. As a result I’m just about managing to cling onto armfuls of Egyptian cotton, determined to prevent my almost-dry bed linen from plummeting onto the patio.

At the same time Pickle takes a break from barking at red kites circling overhead and, assuming the chaos to be a new game for his benefit, grabs the fabric and legs it, his head wedged into one fitted corner with metres of John Lewis’s best billowing behind him.

I don’t usually run around the garden after canine superhero lookalikes. But, hey, this is an exception. Of course, the more I chase and rant, the more animated the response. The only way I can quell the carnage is to fling myself on top of the pet as he’s about to circle my buddleia, grabbing previously clean sheets before scolding Pickle for his unruly behaviour.