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WOMAN'S WEEKLY|January 19, 2021
It started with only one lost dog in the woods...
Rosemary

You find me hunched over the ironing board in the kitchen and thinking dark thoughts about Mrs Bertha Berman.

Tell me honestly, is there any more soul-destroying occupation known to womankind than the ironing and attempted folding of fitted bed sheets? Well, Mrs B is the lady to blame.

One day in 1959, somewhere in America, she was cursing her poor, inoffensive non-fitted sheet because it wouldn’t stay attached to her mattress – perhaps because the Bermans wriggled a lot at night. Anyway, she fitted a piece of elastic to each corner and the world of bed sheets has never been the same since that moment.

My mood is not improved by a strange noise coming from the sitting room. About five minutes ago, Mr Dear took delivery of two fig rolls and a mug of hot chocolate. He is now sitting in his favourite armchair, playing his ukulele, and pretending he is George Formby. In his best impression of a Lancashire accent, he sings:

Look at Empress Josephine, the most attractive woman that ever was seen

Yet Napoleon, short and fat, captivates a lovely looking dame like that

Now if women like them like men like those

Why don’t women like me?

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