Oh dear. As a super-hilarious joke a few days ago I used a temporary tattoo that came free with a pack of Wildlife fromage frais, and transferred a picture of a blue wolf and the caption 'Howl!' onto my forearm. I thought I'd show Patrick and see if I could convince him for a glorious millisecond that it was real. (In Thailand, I wanted to get a minuscule two-week Henna design- costing 50p, somewhere discreet and of his name in Thai- and he got so distressed that he strode off down Khao San Road and left me standing gormless with a very confused local).
Since this free yoghurt-pot transfer was aimed at kids (bizarre but whatevs), I assumed it would fall off in a matter of minutes; hours at the most.
Oh, no. Last night it was still there, after I'd been forced to attend several playgroups and a bible study group with said wolf emblazoned on my arm. Frantic scratching last night just created a mass of red skin which essentially served as a sign. "Here! On my forearm! A hideous tattoo! NOTHING a sane person would ever pick to have inked permanently (or even temporarily, in a fit of hilarity) on their skin! Right here, people, come and JUDGE!"
To make matters worse, tonight I am going to a friend's birthday do- it's a beauty evening, with treatments and wine and dressy-uppy-ness; all the sort of things I dream of daily. I have been looking forward to it for weeks.
And now, do you know what i'll be sporting on my forearm, after further scrubbing? A glowing red patch of irritated skin, a blue smear of half a wolf's jaw, and- this is the best bit- the word 'Ho' above it.
Long sleeves it is then...