My mother visted on Saturday after kindly offering to help me write the wedding invitiations. I went to the spare room with my cup of tea to dig out some decent writing instruments.
At this stage I should point out, I have only a small flat. The door to the spare room is a mere 1.5 feet from the door to the living room, not somewhere out in the West Wing....
Me: [very calm voice] Erm, Mum, I need a cloth in here please.
Mum: What?
Me: [still quite calm] Could you fetch me a cloth please?
Mum: What? Can't hear you? Why?
Me: [through gritted teeth and a bit louder] Really need a cloth in here quite soon...have spilt my tea.
Mum: Where are you?!
Me: [shouting] in the bloody spare room and really in desperate need of a bloody cloth!
Mum: no need to shout, why didn't you say so?
I have no further comment.
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