"Mum would you rather have the best figure in the world and the worst face, or the worst figure in the world and the best face?" As both my face and figure border on Godzilla today, there's no contest. I'd rather be a mushroom:-( I spent most of the day in the kitchen. Stressing over structure with the woman whose colourful prose I am ghostwriting into sense. At one point she said kindly: "Don't worry. If you can hang on financially till March, you'll be back in the limelight." Somewhat taken aback, I asked what she meant. "My astrologer told me," she explained. "When I asked if you were the right person for the book. She told me things weren't great so you'd be free to help." Well thank you Eva Petulengro! Somewhere in Stoke, pontificating on my birthdate. Which, it turned out, had been misremembered... That said, I got paid upfront on the basis of perceived need. I've no complaints;-) Indeed, it was a welcome diversion after the excitements of a weekend near the seaside and a visit yesterday to my youngest's school. To complain about the terrible burn she suffered during National Coffee Day. "I had no idea," the Head said, blanching at the extent of the injury. "Oh dear, this is the sort of thing Starbucks gets sued for." No apology was, or has been, forthcoming. And that's all I desire. My incensed former husband, meanwhile, has forwarded pictures of the injury to his father. Who, unfortunately for the Head, happens to be a solicitor...