When polkadots are the lesser evil...

For reasons of hygiene, I have bought a new tablecloth. Because our flat is so small that you can't fit a table in the kitchen, we have all our meals + put our laptops, and sometimes my sewing-machine, on the table in the living room. So unsurprisingly, our tablecloths were getting increasingly gross, and it was such a pain to keep changing them every time there was one stain... so yeah, last night I looked at it, and really looked, and my soul just curled up in a little shuddering ball. "Bacteria," I thought. Then, "Oilcloth! Wipe-clean!" Ingenious. 

So that's our new tablecloth. I figured, since I was investing in oilcloth anyway, I might as well get it from Cath Kidston. (Yes, there is a logical leap there. But a very short one, if you're me.) And the only pattern they had that wouldn't clash horribly with our crazy sliding door wallpaper (left over from the last tenant, we didn't put it up, we need to be clear on that) was, well, the pink polkadots one. I was so sure Victor was going to go spare, but he actually liked it! I bet he was just happy it wasn't floral. That's his happy face, right there.

Also, I wore clothes today, as you do. It was warm enough for me to actually dig out my shorts, and my (fake) leather jacket. (Forgot to take pictures with that on. Oh well.) 

 I used to be afraid of showing my legs in shorts, but 2011 is the year of doing all sorts of scary things. What would be really cool would be if I could find a cheap jacket in exactly the same tweedy fabric. That would rock my socks. 

When I went past some builders wearing this, I got - well, not exactly wolf-whistled, more like... monkey-grunted. But they were definitely grunts of approval. Go me, I've still got it...