It occurred to me suddenly today that given the nature of the social occasions ahead of me this week, I should extract one at least of the dresses discarded by Cleopatra (in this case, as a consequence of the sticky zip) from the plastic bag still discarded on my chaise longue and now of course heaped over with other, more frequently worn, garments.

So I duly fetched it this evening.

Poor garment.

At least one month of crumpledom has taken its toll.

And I'd had it dry cleaned before that.

But of course I shouldn't wish to iron it. That might burn the delicate stuff of it. And that would never do.