Good morning GFPs, damn, everything's a trash-fire isn't it? But fear not! Here at IW towers aka my sofa, we are READY to turn lockdown lemons into lemonade. So, since those of you not already locked down are about to be intimately reacquainted with your homes: let's talk hoovers! This weekend, the A[merican]B[eefcake] turned around brandishing the Saturday Times magazine at me, saying "it u." Seeing a big picture of Caitlin Moran, I felt flattered but confused -- until I saw the headline: "I’ve fallen in love. With my hoover." Reader: it me. Ok, not actually me, because CM is very nice and loving to her hoover, whereas my hoover isn't even my hoover. It's the AB's, which I only just discovered he owned when, fed up with walking on a crunchy floor in his flat, I released it from its dusty corner and OH MY GOD. I have never experienced hoovering like it. Naturally, the hoover is left over from a previous relationship, because when has a man ever spent that much on a hoover (tbf neither have I but still). If I'd known about his hoover I'd have moved in with him ages ago. Anyway, obvs it's a miele hoover and TL;DR reader I married him*.*I'm working on it.