It is Mummy's 39th birthday. She is staring down the barrel of a
future of people asking if she wants to come to their advanced
yoga classes, and polite book clubs where everyone claims to be
tiddly after a glass of Pinot Grigio and says things like Oooh
gosh, are you having another glass??
But Mummy does not want to go quietly into that good night of
women with sensible haircuts who live for their children and
stand in the playground trying to trump each other with their
offspring's extracurricular activities and achievements, and
boasting about their latest holidays.
Instead, she clutches a large glass of wine, muttering 'FML' over
and over again. Until she remembers the gem of an idea she's had.