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8:19am Tuesday 15th April 2008
I've invited Mariah Carey to stay.
I heard that on a promotional visit to the UK, her dog needs a chauffeur, she needs an assistant to hold her drinks, she only drinks through straws, sleeps with 20 humidifiers around her bed to maintain rainforest levels of humidity, she needs a bed made up with towelling cloth, sleeps late and wants a gym to work out in.
Fair enough - I'd probably want the same myself. But all this will cost the poor girl a fortune - I've heard the tropical bedroom alone could be £20,000 A NIGHT.
So I've issued an open invitation for the American singer to pop up to Yorkshire and kip at my house.
For a start, Mariah wouldn't need any humidifiers. Every night, my children create more steam than the cooling towers at Ferrybridge Power Station. Long hot baths, tightly-shut windows, and the nightly habit of forgetting to turn on the fan, combine to create an atmosphere not unlike that in the Harrogate's Turkish Baths. The thick, moist fog seeps through the bedrooms and lingers through the night, into the following day.
Sleeping late wouldn't be a problem, particularly if her visit is on a weekend or coincides with school holidays, as the earliest my children attempt to raise their heads from the pillow is 10am.
We've got loads of straws left over from children's parties, and I'm sure my husband wouldn't mind holding Mariah's glass for several hours at a stretch, particularly if she's wearing one of those figure-hugging, low cut dresses she's often seen in.
A gym we haven't got, but we've got a garden which Mariah is welcome to run up and down. She could vary her routine with a couple of my daughters' hula hoops or have a go on their dance mat.
As for the dog, I'm sure he'd be as happy in the back seat of an ageing VW Polo as he is in a Mercedes. Being a Jack Russell, he might even get on the scent of a rat or two living among the food waste beneath the driver and front passenger seats.
For Mariah, staying at my place would be home from home.
I would worry a little, however, at her demand for four walk-in wardrobes. "Closets are a big part of my life," she once confessed. Looking as I do, I can't really pretend to share these sentiments, so it may be necessary to do a quick, Linda Barker style make-over and stick a few hangers and a couple of mirrors in the garage and garden shed. We'd have to hope Mariah didn't notice the smell of engine oil or potting compost. A quick spray of Glade's Touch n' Fresh Citrus Bloom should do the trick.
I think she'd enjoy her stay, even down to the company. It is said that Mariah refuses to speak to anyone for two days before a concert. My husband and I often don't communicate for weeks at a time, so she'd feel entirely at ease. When she arrives at a destination, Mariah expects a red carpet and white candles. It just so happens that we have a red (and cream striped, but we can paint over that) runner in the hall, and a bag of tea lights. How can she possibly refuse?
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