Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

It is late. It has been another busy day and it is not over yet. I have still to return my son whence he came… Hades comes to mind. Once, that is, he has finished wallowing in my carefully hoarded and steaming bath water. The very same for which I had plans tonight. Plans, I might add, that involved the delicious scent of lavender oil and rose, with perhaps a soupçon of dittany to aid the nice, relaxed dreams that were sure to follow. Instead, I am on taxi duty and by the time I get back home again it will be later still and I will probably not care about the bath.

I don’t exactly mind. I can sympathise with his desire to wallow. A shower is all very well for getting clean but I wouldn’t swap his Italian chrome and travertine marble for my simple white tub, not…