Secrets, truths and some little white lies.
THOSE among you familiar with my recent employment woes, crack open the fizz, for this week I return to work on a well-known Welsh language soap opera which is now my favourite programme and the reason why I did cartwheels down the middle of the A470 last weekend.
The thing is, job offers tend to turn up in clusters and so last Thursday I had the opportunity to work for a Cardiff-based events company, an experience I feel duty bound to share as it could serve as a guide for all those facing their own first days on a new job.
Firstly, don't lose your lucky pants. This will only end in tragedy, and if anyone out there should find mine, please send them to me as I believe everything that follows is linked to my loss.
Secondly, if you have recently been diagnosed with intolerance to dairy products (nothing should come between me and my Arctic Roll), do not down half a pint of milk because you think it is healthy. It isn't.
Thankfully I live in a small house with a small bathroom with a small distance between the toilet and the sink. But in the hours that followed as I lay in my pit I felt confident that I would be fully recovered by Thursday morning, which I was.
In fact I felt so great by Wednesday evening I decided to do some de-cluttering, which brings me to my third lesson. First impressions are everything so please refrain from messing about with your skin.
Despite my hardy exterior I am a delicate little flower. Perfumed soaps and potions have never been my friends. So when I was clearing out the bathroom on Wednesday evening and found a massive tub of body butter I should have ignored it.
What I did was rub it into my face in big fat dollops. It felt lovely and silky and creamy for about two seconds. This evolved into the sort of pain I imagine one would feel if I set upon my skin with a cheese grater. I was alone in the house but I restricted myself to internal silent screaming because the walls are thin and my neighbour thinks I am enough of a drama queen as it is.
Luckily, once the rash spread across my face the pain eased.
Several rinses later I went to my bed and prayed to Lorraine Kelly the goddess of great skin to save me and sure enough the following morning I was back to my good old pale, gaunt, pasty self. Hurrah.
Unfortunately it developed into an extremely warm day, which coupled with my child-like need to impress led to a great deal of excess perspiring. This resulted in any body butter that was still under my skin skipping gleefully back to the surface.
I looked as if I was hiding red peas under my skin.
Workers of the future, you have been warned - never lose your lucky pants.