Today I have officially given myself a day off.
Aided and abetted by the alcohol consumed last night when friends we hadn't seen for quite a while came to stay the night and pleasantries went on until well after midnight, as well as a particularly strenuous working week, the call of an afternoon with Poirot sounds rather delightful.
The fact that I have a wonderful husband who has shooed me away with the instruction to 'get some rest' has also helped, and I have to add it was he who pointed out that Mr P was on the telly this afternoon, so I relinquish all feelings of guilt and think I'll go for the pleasure principle instead.
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