Working From Home Herald

  Dressing up I am not a massive fan of dressing up. Not sure why I am just not. I groan whenever I am invited to a fancy dressed party. Partly because I have loads of ideas and then do a load of research online, get my heart set on a costume and then have a sanity check just before I click the purchase button and realise I don’t want to spend £100 on a costume that I will never wear again, just so some random people can laugh for 2 minutes when I first arrive. Inevitably, I am left scrambling around for something to wear an hour before the party and turn up with an underwhelming naff costume and see the disappointment in other’s eyes when I arrive (although that could just be my arrival rather than the rubbish costume). However, last week I found myself dressing up twice: The first was for a charity event for the kids in half term to raise funds for some equipment for a local epileptic boy. One of the mums thought it would be good to conduct a masked singer contest and approache

  The obvious joke:   We had new sofas delivered last week. We ordered them back in October and they finally arrived. The night before they came, the old ones were due to be collected and taken away.   Being the helpful couple we are, we managed to get one of the sofa’s out of the front room and into the hallway ready for the collection team. They arrived and were grateful and carted it away. They then moved onto the next one (bigger one). They lifted, they twisted and they manoeuvred as they attempted to get the sofa out of the living room door and past the stairs. They sweated, the uttered curses and exasperated they enquired whether the sofa definitely came in that way.   It was at that moment I recalled it didn’t and remembered facing a similar situation when we they were delivered and we ended up coming through the garden. Did I admit that? Of course not, Instead I insisted that it had come through that way.   After a few more minutes of struggling. I looked at t