No, no… not another moment of culinary triumph (I didn’t think I could fit another picture of Anzac Biscuits on here, woo)
More an example of titties and household chores not mixing, like when Nigella drops double cream down her top.
So I came in from work, carrying bags and coats and umbrellas and all the other junk I cart with me on a day to day basis (preparation for my future as a crazy old bag lady who will rant about politics on the street corners), and I stopped to see whether our bin had been taken back inside. In all the shifting of bags and coats and bending down etc to look at the bin numbers and general craziness, the little black polka dot shirt I was wearing must have gotten shaken around a bit.
It is a cute shirt, but made of very flimsy light material.
So, after realising I couldn’t carry the recycling tubs and all my other junk, I started to head upstairs to my flat. I saw one of my neighbours on the stairwell. Our conversations are always a bit awkward… just those passing "Hi, I have nothing to say to you really but I recognise that maybe I should say hi in case I need assistance of some sort and cos it’s polite". But today, his hi was really awkward, and accompanied by the clearing of his throat. I didn’t think anything of it.
When I reached the top of the stairs and went to find my keys in my bag, I looked down… and who did I see but my two sister-girlfriends who had decided to come out for some fresh air. I had relished the opportunities that black shirts provide in terms of freedom of choice of underwear colour, and was wearing a ruby red lacy brassiere… which was now completely visible. As in, the top two buttons of an already low cut top were undone. The top only has four buttons. I had somehow failed to notice that my top was nearly completely off.
So now the people of the north shore can not only direct scorn towards me for my dodgy car and Newtown-inspired dress sense… they also probably think I earn my dollars on the street corners of Kings Cross, or in a show called "office girls gone bad".
This really isn’t a Nigella moment. That was a really tenuous link. In my mind, it made sense.