Eggs benedict

Now, you all must have heard that a very special muscley friend of mine has soared right into the limelight recently. No, Johnny hasn't got arrested for crimes against low v vests, or even for leading the head of the illuminati army. My friend Benedict, who I met at Dave's (and practically, my) sister's Christmas Cabaret has joined the cast of the Big Brother house.

I wonder if he will name drop me when he's finished talking about this: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2161302/Big-Brother-2012-Benedict-leaves-housemates-disgusted-admits-masturbating-shower.html

Oh dear. He might be making as much of a mess of his 15 minutes of fame as I did of a meal of fried eggs, mash, mushrooms, tomatoes, in a similar window of time.

Well, as they say, you can't polish an egg. 

Chineing out of my mind

I'm seriously still jangling after THIS much cheese at Chaz's house on Tuesday.
We had lots of cherry tomatoes too, crackers, celery,
syphillis, grapes, chutneys, quince paste, gherkins,
red onions, olives, and obviously, because I'm a right Laura Corby, I insisted on a whole pack of fatty meat cuts.

We had such an Olympian amount of food that it needed its own opening ceremony before we could jump in.

Luckily the wine wasn't £7 a small glass, so we could polish off quite a few bottles without fear of spending out oyster fare home.

Pining

Wales was so good.

I had a walk, had a bath, ate food prepared for me. Kind of like living at Granny's but with mountains and alcohol.

On the train home I would have carried on crying about leaving, but for my packed tea making it impossible to chew and sigh at once.

I took some slices of bread, the rest of the chutney, about eleven fruity oaty chocolatey cereal bars, some warm hunks of cheese, and an apple. The crowning glory was a large slice of Dave's pine nut cake. It is seriously the best cake ever. So juicy. I remember once, a nut allergy sufferer asking me, what do pine nuts taste like? Probably like death to you, but to me, delicious.

I would ask Dave for the recipe but I'm pretty sure my five readers just skip through that part when I bother.

Long may she rain

To celebrate the Queen's boat race on Sunday we floated ourselves down to Aberdovey. It was ever so wet. We hid from the rain for a bit by having a fish and chip lunch in a very hospitable establishment, then rounded it off with peanut butter ice cream with jammy sauce.

Then more hardy members of the group went for a walk on the beach until we were knocked over by the wind and had to retreat. We wanted to stay longer in the town but we saw a lady in a charity shop on the phone reporting me for wearing so many pastels in a non fashion town and so we had to speed off as quick as the Royal barge would take us. 

Lettuce have loads of fun

On Friday I eased my work-aching bones into a seat on the 18.10 to Wrexham and settled down to enjoy my packed supper of homemade quiche, new potatoes, and babybel. I rustled about in my large bag to find it. My eager fingers made contact with the knife and fork. Then some odd plastic bags I just happen to keep around for emergencies. Then a large plastic tub. I retrieved it gratefully and opened the lid.

Nothing but fresh garden lettuce! Just lettuce. In my haste I'd taken the wrong tub from the fridge. Serves me right for keeping everything in recycled Vitalite tubs. Next thing I'll be picking up Bob's primary school teacher's tub of tampons kept in the art cupboard for her.*

Well, let's just say that the poor man next to me bore the brunt of some two hours worth of sighs and scowls. It would have been worth his while to buy me a sandwich just to shut me up.

*Extremely in-joke.

Luckily all was soothed by the next day when we had lasagne with a side of fresh garden lettuce, after a fresh windy walk on some big hill.