Just been given the all clear to put the Helen Mirren bikini picture on the fridge, on the spurious grounds that it’s a shining example of the benefits of restraint at the the trough for those of us no longer in the first flush of youth.
The GLW (unlike her Scrumpy Jack-guzzling husband) is as trim as she was twenty years ago but nevertheless she fell for it “h, l & s”. It’s a cunning ( and slightly underhand) ruse, but ... well ... you know.
I’m sure Dame Helen will be a big hit with her fellow fridgemates, who are:
* Delia Smith (pictured in the late 60s/early 70s brandishing a whisk, a mixing bowl and an egg and looking, it has to be said, ever so slightly foxy.)
* Paul & Linda (in a lovey-dovey early ’70s shot)
* Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais (sitting on a lawn, with long hair and “sideies”)
* A recipe for some sort of paprika-based sauce
* The mobile number of a Lithuanian meathead called Helmut who is a lovely fella and a master of the plastering arts
* Paul Weller and his eldest kids, Nat and Leah, at the Mojo awards the other week.
* A poem I wrote to mark the occasion of our daughter’s pet rabbit being killed by a fox a few years ago - an attempt to console her rather than an account of the actual event.
* Some guff from school.

Ours is, on the whole, a cheerful fridge (and, as nobody has ever said: “a cheerful fridge is a cheerful home”), but it‘s just got a whole lot hotter.