But Liam blew it. He squeezed out my recklessness and smashed it on the floor. I immediately crawled back into my shell, with even less inclination to come out. Now, every day when I get dressed, my aim is to cover as much of my body as I can without looking like I am dressed like a nun. I am sure Lauren Pearce’s wedding will be full of young women exposing flesh like they are produce in a butcher’s fridge. Not me, I will be in my usual velvet armour. Albeit in a fabulous colour.

I consider shaving my entire body, but it’s never worth it. Within hours the hair would start to grow back and that is very uncomfortable. I pluck my chin and I pack my tweezers. Twelve hours is a long time, and who knows what will sprout from where by the end of the day. I put on the crimson version of the dress but it’s too hot for tights. It’s a warm day and I’ve packed a portable fan to keep me cool. I presume this ‘back room’ will at least have a window?

Rebecca has told me to bring a sandwich. She said she was sure there would be something available for us, but that I shouldn’t rely on it. I don’t eat sandwiches, so I make a neat packed lunch of some rice cakes and crudités with a generous amount of hummus in a Tupperware box. I also pack deodorant and a pair of tights in case I do get cold. You never know if there will be air conditioners or not. I have my computer, of course, my charger, and an Internet dongle in case there is no Wifi. All of this requires one of my larger totes. A cheeky Anya Hindmarch with a pair of googly eyes on it. It’s quite ambitious on the fun factor, considering who owns it. But I quite enjoy the irony of that.

A car is waiting for me outside my house. It’s a Mercedes – apparently they’re providing a fleet of cars for the event. Every guest has been sent one as the wedding party don’t want random taxis showing up. I was asked by Rebecca to #Mercedes with a selfie of myself on the way. I told her I would do no such thing. I am going to this event to work, I am being paid. I have no obligation to enter into the brand support just so that Lauren Pearce and her famous husband can get loads of things for free.

The driver isn’t chatty, so it’s a fine journey as we travel about forty-five minutes west of London. I spend most of it thinking about Bonnie, and what a mess I have made of her nursery situation. After a wax, it is top of my things to have sorted by the end of next week.