It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

I had the very special treat the other day of meeting Roast's new amour Adam. Hi Adam. Doubt anyone reads this now but I'll pretend. Sob sob. Slit Slit. (My bed is like a village pond around me with all this liquid literary distress. I know just how Virginia felt).

We went to Byron burger for, well, a burger. My favourite bit about it is how it comes with a gherkin on the side. Just like my lunches in New York. Because not everyone likes gherkins I got quite a few at Byron. Not just like New York, as in New York I lunched alone. So I only got my one. Alone. Like me.

Sorry I'm being too me me me when this blog is actually about Chris' burger pain. His juicy burger arrived much later than everyone else had finished theirs. It was tres embarassing for him. And we hated watching him eat. To distract us he put his gherkin in the top of the burger like a candle.

We all got puddings to cheer ourselves up. And to cheer himself up Chris taunted me with a glace cherry for what felt like days...