When Lennon met Harry

Think you know the meaning of difficult? Meet my mother.

If I had a checklist for getting ready for a night out it would probably look something like this;

• Allow 4 hours to get ready.

• Spend 3 hours 40 minutes of this allotted time laid on the bed pointlessly going between the same 3 apps on my phone, thus leaving just 20 minutes to shower, do hair/make up and get dressed.

• Spend the majority of these 20 minutes looking for a song to get ready to.

• Almost sever major artery in my leg whilst shaving.

• Decide on impulse to apply false tan.

• Immediately regret decision when bright orange stripes appear across my legs.

• Search desperately for a pair of unladdered tights to hide above mistake.

• Accidentally ladder the one pair that I find.

• Plan outfit 1 week in advance, then decide 10 minutes before leaving that it makes me look too fat/frumpy/stupid (delete as applicable)

• Spend 10 minutes trying to remember the name of that song I really love.

• Worry about being late.

• Decide that now is the perfect time to try a new curled hairstyle that I saw in a magazine.

• Burn forehead on curling irons.

• Stare at said new hairstyle in the mirror, wondering how I've ended up looking like a poodle that's gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson.

• Stumble around the room clutching my still bleeding, freshly orange streaked knee looking for hair straighteners.

• Give up and pour a large vodka.

• More vodka.

• Think fúck it and spend 5 minutes looking for my old favourite dress.

• Find it in my unwashed clothes pile.

• Use body spray to 'wash' it.

• Slap some make up on.

• Voilà!

I mean, I can't say it'd work for everyone, but that's generally how it goes for me. Luckily Glen takes even longer than me. When I finished my shower 10 minutes after we were meant to leave, Glen was still doing his latest breathing meditation in the front room.

We were supposed to meet Star at 9 at some bar in Central London. It's now 9:30 and despite dealing with her increasingly irate calls every 5 minutes I've managed to get ready.

Glen is blasting out 'Eye of the tiger' from his bedroom, so I know he's nearly ready to go too.

I'm just wondering if I've got time to pluck my eyebrows when my phone begins to ring. I groan and answer it quickly.

"Oh my god! Star I've told you we're in the taxi-" I lie.

"Lennon?!"

I mentally curse at the sound of my mothers shrill voice.

"Lennon? I need to talk to you." Her voice rises dramatically. "It's about your new job..."

"Mum, I don't have time! I'm just going to meet Star..." I say desperately. I don't have time for whatever crazy conversation she's going to land on me.

"No, this is important."

"Mum-"

I hesitate. Glen's still not ready. I sigh and pour myself another drink, I may as well get this over with now otherwise she'll just keep trying to call back.