Their timing couldn't have been worse. I was sporting my post hairwash wild woman of Wonga look, and Smiley was on the toilet. So I was doubly stressed to see two strange young women on my doorstep with laminated badges and clipboards. Uh oh.
I always answer the door in hope. After all, it could be a friend, the postman with a parcel, my lovely daughter who forgot her keys again, a local politician nervously anticipating a grilling. But far too often it's people selling things. What they don't understand is that the harder they push, the faster I want to get rid of them. Without signing anything. And if they start to come in - which has happened - the door will be shut in their faces faster than you can say "cheap electricity".