Spring into my mouth please, little egg!

What I love about Spring is how unguarded it is. It just comes out. The audacious yellow of a daffodil, the unashamed splurge of a sow giving birth to slippery piglets, the exuberant "we just have to gambol RIGHT NOW" of lambs.

So I was in the David Hockney exhibition this weekend (fifth time- just like Spring I don't stop coming).

And my fingers started surreptitiously to stroke a cream egg nestled in my trench coat pocket. I walked through the second room, mind starting to wonder forward from the current set of retrospectives, to the prospect of cream egg that no doubt would befall me. I imagined how strong it would taste. How sweet. I was pretty sure I could smell it. Faintly as a crocus. But no less distinct.

As we came to the third room.. Yes, we. I had company. Besides the whole of a packed Saturday morning RA exhibition. As we came to the third room, the thought of a creme egg about to give birth to flavour became unbearable. I couldn't deny myself. I held up my large blue leather clutch ducking behind it, sank my teeth in. Eurgh, foil. Never mind. It was glorious. Spring had sprung!

Some people gave me a glance. Hmm, maybe they can tell. I'll pretend to look at the art. Oh, it's got a little too soft in my hot fingers now. Before I knew it it was everywhere. In my hair, on the paintings, in other people's hair. Spring had indeed come to the Royal Academy (twenty twelve). What shall I do???

In it went to the clutch. A few finger licks and I was restored. Shame about the inside of my bag. You could dip soldiers in that now!

You make me sick

Quite frankly, sometimes I do. I can't help it. I just eat too much for my washboard abs to cope with. Just like that Jack Nicholson/Diane Keaton film, something's gotta give.

So I had had a lovely lunch at Granny's in the countryside. Finished off with a small glass of red wine, and a bowl of chocolate roulade and double cream. Feeling utterly content I got into my car to make the 1.5 hr drive to my other Granny's. Who would have thought someone pretending so heavily to be in her 80s could ever do something like what happened next?

Ten minutes down the road I felt a little cough tickling my throat. Oh no. Not a cough. Hello roulade. Thought I'd left you in Great Maplestead village, not sitting

down my cream wool jumper and ice white jeans for the next hour on the motorway. Lucky my short term memory is abysmal so once I'd started planning what ice cream flavours my wedding buffet will serve* I forgot all about it.

*Not imminent. Remember my most recent boyfriend believed in conspiracy theories.

We've (bisc)Quit

After being shut in the basement of a so called workplace for the last ten months it's no wonder my puns are as shaky as my restraint damaged legs. I've been as abused as a binger's throat.

So to try and wipe this from my mind I traversed to Epping Forest with my very sweet colleague to set the world to rights, after eating all the biscuits and snacks her Mum had made/bought that week. I think I left the jammy dodgers and a chocolate covered brazil nut.

The cheesecake is made with ricotta and pine nuts and crumbly bits. I think it might be Russian in origin. Who knows? Both latter sentences may be entirely incorrect. Sometimes it's all my tongue can do to discern between sugar and something that I would spit out as it doesn't contain sugar.

Self Harmlloumi

Last night I was lying in bed listening to Alex and Tom moving out, feeling utterly miserable. So much in pain from the anxiety of it. Hmm. What can I do to release this pain? This is probably when people turn to self harm I pondered to myself, but I'm too lazy to even get up and find an instrument.

Could food help me find an outlet for my emotions? I knew I had some halloumi downstairs left over from dinner with Eleanor earlier in the evening. The saltiness would be a an emotional explosion on my tongue.. But still, too lazy to cheese self harm as I would need to go downstairs..

Luckily at that minute Jess came back from class and had brought me an easter egg to soften the blow. Right to my bed. What a good nurse. If only I could use that method when my anorexic patients want to cut themselves. I guess no takers?

We're finishing our chocolate now whilst silently screaming at screechy women viewing our house. Yes, it has got great storage space. Yes, the garden will be lovely in Summer. NOW TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF OUR CREAM CARPET!

Mother Mash

Bought this new jeans the other day that make me look like a cool Mum. You know the sort. Not so tight that they leave red welts on my thighs. Not sexy. Easy to wash if got baby sick on them. Or Fran sick. Magenta coloured too. I'm wild.

Suddenly I'm 35 going for a walk with my Bugaboo pram and a cashmere sweater.

In a very accepting way I slipped on the loose fit jean of responsibility and took my Mum for an adventure to see the new Hockney exhibition, via a pie and mash shop. Don't worry we were proper Mums later with tea and cake. Anyway, I had a chicken and leek pie, champ mash, and bacon and red wine gravy. I like to mix my meats as I do my metaphors.

Aargh as I'm writing this some weird people are viewing my home to replace me like big fat cuckoos. My creative juices have been stifled by their cackles of delight. No more potato paradise. I'm in moving hell. Bye for now. I need to go to have a cry.

Whizhard soup, Sparkles!

Arrgh! Help! Dani! I'm drowning. Gurgle gurgle. Would have been my reaction to swimming this morning on a hangover and four hours sleep, if it wasn't for the fortitude of my rock hard massive muscles keeping me afloat.

Oh sorry that's not me. I got mixed up with my hot but dim ex boyfriend. Last mention I promise.

I luckily had a child's flotation aid under my stomach to keep me from drowning during 30 minutes of light exercise in the slow lane.

Utterly spent, Dani and I forced our weak kindling legs back to dry land where Sparkles was waiting for us with some home made sweet potato soup that he'd just whizzed up. He really does shine as brightly as a star. A beacon, one could say, for our tired hearts.

Unfortunately, as Dani and I attempted to doze on the sofa post lunch, we remembered the promise we'd earlier made to Sparks. "Yes, of course we will make an igloo with you later. Now hurry up and make our soup in time for us to get back from swimming."

Hmm. So Mum1 and Mum2 dragged themselves out to the park with Sparkles and somehow made an igloo. It was really loads of fun apart from Mum1 (Dani) had ironically been most unMum and not brought gloves so her fingers were nearly frostbitten off. In a very Mum way this of course meant it was soon time to go home for tea and cake.

A lovely day xxxx

Hampered on Hampstead

"I had a busy weekend. First I stayed at home. Then I went to bed". Not really. That's just what children in Tom's class write in their homework weekend reports. That I like to read to feel better about myself.

I actually had a winter picnic this weekend (again by this read months ago). It was loads of fun.

We had some very heavy bread. We were quite cross at Mark for buying it at first as we wanted a classic picnic baguette.

What stick in the muds in clean desert boots we were! It was actually DElicious. Although our wrists were a little sore after. Chaz couldn't even hold it to her mouth it was so heavy...

We married this ever so heavy bread with ham and cheese, with sides of grapes, yoghurts, and a big dose of moaning about the cold weather. Then Chaz and I got lost because we weren't following the boys every motion. But it turned out alright in the end as we found the pub and got very drunk.

THE END

I hope Mr Boreman gives me a level 5 at least for this!

Perfect 10

Had a wild night out last night* for Bob's 125th birthday. We went to the Birdcage for kareoke. And yes, I performed.

I did a duet of the Beautiful South with Roast, and an extravagant solo performance of Jennifer Paige Crush. It went down a storm. To boos and howls..

Utterly traumatised I didn't even notice when I was bundled into a taxi and woke up to my surprise in Croyden. Oh! When did we cross the channel?

But I'm very adaptable so I bunkered down happily on my airbed and didn't awake until the morning when David Haddrell summoned me in for the extra special birthday ceremony.

I clambered into the parental bed and we sang the birthday song and gave Bob her cards and presents. Then, after betting account 40A had made the ladies some money for the day, Dave took us out for breakfast at http://www.bishopsgatekitchen.com/

We had a sumptious full breakfast, with not one but TWO drinks, which as everyone knows is the lap of luxury.

*It's with a yawn of resignation that I reluctantly point out to you that it was not last night, nor the one before, no indeed the week before. I'm a slow blogger alright!

Bad Santa

It was pretty cold today. It looked more like Christmas than the imposter warm Christmas 2011 itself. As I wiped the thick frost off my windscreen with my jumper sleeve at 6am I thought, I know what will warm the cockles of my heart tonight. Reliving our London family Christmas party!

Here's a few photos for you

.

Ooh that's hot!

So the only thing bad about not having muscles on tap now, aka that thick boyfriend I had (don't worry he can't read so this blog won't be a problem), is that I'm yearning for something else hearty. I wondered about some chorizo. A nice thick stew perhaps? Ooh some garlic bread. And I want a red wine with BODY.

With this in mind I went on a hot date with the gang to Le Monmartre in Islington. Obvs had the Pixies Fix, with pate to start, a very meaty fish gratin, and some creme brulee tinted kisses from Dave for pudding. Mainly lots of red wine. Who doesn't want a little sick in the toilet between courses?

Then we went for a drink at a nearby pub and I tried not to cry as Alex hit me in the face in time to Rhianna Rude Boy. Just incase I was missing any physical attention.

I think you'll agree, excellent photography as always.

Plenty more fish in the sea

So I got dumped the other day. By email. Here it is for your pleasure.

Hi Frances.

I Just wanted to give you a little insight on something psychological that I think you might find interesting.

I think what you are unaware of is that I understand you better than you would think, here's how...

You want to be the person who chooses and chases the man but the irony in this is that probably most times in your past (relationships etc.) you have either ended up chasing the guy who

a) doesn't want you

b) is immature/insecure

c) over dominates you

I know you have a need to attain the 'unattainable' guy and you probably end up tricking yourself into thinking a guy is much more interesting than he turns out to be. Suffice to say you are always attracted to what you can't have.

I understand lately that you have seen a different side of me and you are probably thinking I have been weak and submissive, needy and asking of your permission to meet up. You have also seen the darkest, unexciting version of me in our latest meetings who isn't as dominant as you would prefer.

Let me just clear this up for you now. I am not looking for your permission to meet up, even on the subtlest level. I have wanted to meet up with you because I actually enjoy your company, your feminine drive to contribute and nurture and your passions. More than anything I just wanted to have fun experiences together.

I know you don't give me much of your time and for good reason. You most likely have multiple guys you see that give you things that make you feel validated, significant and wanted. If not from guys you get this from Family or Friends. And I realise this is why I get the same treatment because I'm no more important than anybody else. I just give you that little bit of something you need and you get the rest from whoever else. As you already knew, I wanted to be more than than this.

In the big picture of things, I know I'm an attractive guy and I'm strong, dominant, independent and fun. The fact that I have turned down advances made on me by girls since we've been together has shown my integrity and commitment to you. Just so you know, you were never a conquest or my Trophy. But right now I don't feel like your respecting my qualities as a boyfriend.

I will say I am sorry for pressuring you into trying to get to know me too quickly.

Here's the tricky bit for me though... In my mind I know that, just because I understand you, doesn't mean I'm right for you. And just because you are a nice girl to lots of guys, doesn't mean you are a nice girlfriend for me. I think I was kidding myself on this... and I need to be true to who I am and my values.

I really didn't want it to end like this but I can't see us continuing our relationship in the future.

I hope this has been thorough enough, if not you can let me know.

Gosh, I'm quite worn out after reading that misspelt epic. Yawn. I need some fuel. Lucky for me I had the pleasure of not one, but two, hot catches for dinner!

First, a nice bit of plaice with dauphinois potatoes, and second, asian sauced salmon with mash potatoes and caramelised carrots. Much easier to swallow than the above psy101 essay!