The horrors of Halloween.
Basically, whilst other people my age are out getting bladdered and dancing at parties on All Hallow's Eve, in various states of indecent dress, I did the yearly task of taking my sister round the cul-de-sac - stopping her going to clearly vacated houses or those where the residents were lying low, telling her to say please and thankyou, not to take the whole bowl of sweets when offered etc, etc. As I was getting dressed, I found myself mentally ordering myself about.
OK. Here's the deal. You're supposed to be nearly an adult, so be polite. For goodness' sake, wear something appropriate. Practise that grin. Put some nice perfume on. Look quirky but shy and retiring. Sort your hair out, it looks a mess. No fancy shoes. Look naturally friendly.
My conclusion? I'm turning into Bree Orson. Now there's a scary thought. I don't think I'll be faking pregnancy and passing the baby of my non-existent daughter off as mine any time soon though, somehow...
(Picture credit to www.abc.go.com)