Do you remember in the Lion King where the baboon smacks Simba around the head with a stick and then swipes at him again for the little lion to duck? The lesson being that one learns from the past or previous mistakes or something of a similar vein. This is not such for me. I know that each time I stand up the hem of my too long trousers sends a shooting pain to the underside of my bare foot. Yet I have neither sorted this out nor stopped standing up.

In equally who the hell cares news:

I have been doing a lot of laundry in preparation for some birthday celebrations I have planned. A girl needs some clothing options for such events and there comes a time when it is best to realise it's a good idea (but much less fun) to wash old clothes than to think you are a P.Diddy like diva and continue buying new clothes so you never run out. I disappointed myself and fell into the oldest washing clich� when I managed to wash a red sock with all my white washing.

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This was my face upon realisation. A surprising element of reaching the bottom of the linen basket was that I found some things I threw in there when tidying up months (years?) ago. Hello little bag, come and surface to the light. Also a teddy which an extraordinarily misguided former boyfriend gave to me. I am not a soft toy girl and even if I was I am not as unoriginal as to want a teddy bear. I have a patch man that was knitted for and given to me when I was 7. He has a mouse on his head and a robin on his shoulder. He has got to be the least cute soft toy in existence. He stays in a box with all my bed linen. Another washing surprise was the quantity that was not mine. Why are people slipping things in with my laundry? It�s not washed frequently enough to think you are getting it back any time soon, M and my sister that is you I am talking about. Why is the ratio of clothes always greater than that of coathangers?

I love watermelon. It is so pretty but has to be eaten in such a satisfyingly juice dribbling down arms, face stuck in a big wedge type of way. Cutting it into petit ladylike chunks does not cut the mustard sunshine. I have just realised what a bizarre expression cut the mustard is.

While I am on the subject of food a very useful tip is to not leave a carrier bag close to the toaster. Although in hindsight it is quite a fun sight to behold it smells nostril revoltingly bad.

Inkysoso is master of the scientific