Why wellington boots were invented
THE realisation that I am attempting to emulate Bree from Desperate Housewives comes as I am standing at the front of the house watering the tomato plants in my outfit for the Chester Races.
Heels are not appropriate attire for gardening, I think, as I wave to a girl walking past in her rollers, who is obviously taking the getting-ready process far more seriously than I am.
The tomato plants are looking decidedly stunted, not like Bree's prize delphimiums at all, and I now have a ladder in my tights having snagged them on a jaggered bit of plant pot.
Then the taxi arrives and I have to rush inside and hunt out another pair, at the same time as emptying the watering can and finding my handbag.
The cool poise of Bree completely lost, I have ended up just looking desperate.
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