The smell of steaming Porridge

I have noticed a mysterious musky meaty odour in the living room, and finally the source has been identified. It is usually considered unwise to share intimate toiletting details on the internet but in this case I think the risks are minimal. Anyway, since Porridge's showgirl days are over, Hello magazine will no longer be interested in first refusal for the photos.

However, I must warn you that darling D has included a shot of my bottom (grotesquely enlarged by the camera lens angle of course) and some very attractive droopy socks. I am hoping that this will not prove to be too provocative for some of you.

When Porridge is bathed, she pretends to cooperate, but launches a subversive campaign of non confrontational resistance...

She will try and jump out of the bath at the least opportunity unless wedged in by, for example, my leg along the top of the bath. This is even more uncomfortable than it looks...

The bathée will lean against the bather in such a way as to make me even wetter than she is, her best trick being to shove her head between my legs while my hands are busy at the other end...

It is easy to mistake her need for contact between my body and her wet fur as a request for love and reassurance, but I am a hard woman and not to be taken in by it...well maybe a bit