When you've got small children you find yourself constantly interrupted.
Making a cup of tea?
Well the kettle will boil about 8am, reboil about 8.30am, boil once more at 9.30am and you will finally pour the tea at 10am. And drink it about 40 minutes later.........
Having a wee?
Don't expect it pass without having a (shouted) conversation with somebody on another level of the house.
'I. AM. UPSTAIRS'.
'MUMMMEEE COME DOWN NOW'.
'I'm doing a wee'.
'I. AM. DOING. A. WEE' (great now not just you know, but the neighbours both sides also know and possibly anybody walking past the house as sound travels rather well through the bathroom airbrick).
'MUMMEEEE I NEED YOU'.
'THEN COME UP HERE. NOW'.
(Much grumbling, shuffling, huffing and beration later the child in question turns up at the bathroom door).
'What is it? I hope it's important!'.
'I found a feather!'.
They find approximately 300 feathers a day due to the fact that they are slowly picking my living room cushions apart. And yet the novelty of each new find never fades.........
Anyway - you get interrupted a lot and this leads to 'jobs half done'.
And so it was I found myself interrupted whilst applying concealer to my face the other morning.
Concealer (in case you don't wear make up) is a kind of a skin(ish) coloured paste that basically 'conceals' your imperfections.
Tempting as it is to cover my entire face it's actually just intended to cover spots, red bits, dark circles, holes, mouldy bits and anything else 'less than perfect' (as I was saying - basically my entire face).
Anyway I had red dry patches under my nose that particular morning so I put a nice thick layer of pale coloured paste under each nostril.
And then something happened.
What it was I can't recall - I would guess somebody weed on something. Or possibly fell off something. Or maybe got stuck in something.
Anyway I rushed off - and here lies the catch - I forgot to go back and finish the job.......
Several hours later - having spoken to the postman, a neighbour and walked to the shop and back, I looked in the mirror to find that I was sporting what looked like a mighty fine pair of pale coloured walrus tusks - one sprouting from beneath each nostril and curving up the sides of my nose.
And nobody had said a thing.
Coo Coo Ca Choo.