Bonnie is now on her hands and knees underneath a hydrangea bush shouting, ‘Mousey, come on mousey. Mousey, mousey.’ It would be cute, if she weren’t trying to draw the attention of a rodent. I throw a smile in her direction, she doesn’t catch it. I spend so much of my time regretting having a child, and fantasising about how much easier my life would be if my only responsibility was hair removal. But the idea of anything happening to her is so unimaginable. Ross has given me a perspective that should have been obvious all along. I know how it feels to have someone I love taken away from me, so why wasn’t losing my dad lesson enough? The only way I was ever able to cope with losing him was knowing that I made the most of him while he was alive. My memories of being with my dad are the happiest of my life. If something happened to either Bonnie or myself, all the other one would have to remember would be screaming fits and violent episodes. Her playing alone, and me trying to hide. It’s not good enough.

I get down on my hands and knees under the bush next to Bonnie, and nervously call for the mouse.

Lauren Pearce – Instagram post

@OfficialLP

The picture is of Lauren sitting in a gazebo in a garden. She is surrounded by Bianca roses. She is wearing white lacy underwear, her hair is perfectly tonged.

The caption reads:

Today I woke up and smelt the flowers. Feeling like the luckiest girl alive. When life gives you lemons, surround yourself in roses. That’s the expression, right? #TWO MORE SLEEPS

@wellyturnips: your life … it’s perfect. Lucky, lucky girl!

@MikeyinDisguise: Show us your mum again. I love a MILF.

@harriethartly: Looks, love and millions. You nailed it.

@bettyblack: SHOW US THE DRESS!!!!!!!!!!!

@iamtheonebutyouarethetwo: Gavin could have had any woman in the country but he chose you. I find this FASCINATING. Not being mean, you’re nice and everything, but Cheryl Cole is single again … just saying!

@garindagale: So bored of the me me me posts. Disappointing lack of #realness. UNFOLLOW.

Ruby

Even though I have made versions of the same dress over and over again in the past twenty years, I like the ritual of starting from scratch each time. Step one is always measuring myself, just to be sure. I start with my bust: thirty-five centimetres. My waist: twenty-seven and a half centimetres. My hips: thirty-eight centimetres. Just as I was at university. I knew I hadn’t changed, but it’s nice to see the numbers. A satisfying visual after all the hard work.