Cake-alamity

Louis and I had been high alert for my period starting all day yesterday. At the Museum of London he'd put his hand into my high waisted shorts pocket and been startled to fish back an entire handful of tampons. Oh. Whoops. Well, I said, they're so tiny these days that I do need eight. One for every crevice. 

It still hasn't come but in anticipation of all that fluid leaving me I thought I'd eat a lot of cake today as a sort of skin tampon to sponge it all up.

First I started with Shreddies. Which if you think about it is a sort of cereal cake in chunks. Like mini millionaire shortbreads.

Then Dani Bristol and I met Louis for lunch at Lizzy B's hot new cafe in Newington Green. We shared banana, pear and chocolate cake, and chocolate, rose and cardamon cake and pronounced Lizzy a genius!

After that I went off to Ariana's to make beetroot and chocolate cake with her, Greyson the greyhound, and Ariana's soft soft soft baby. I promise I won't accidentally eat him or use him as a menstrual cork! He's just so compact!


Oh and I managed a Whole Foods chocolate Brownie whilst the cake was cooking. Had to build up the dam. I'm as leaky as the Thames when I get going.

Lionel messy

I had a bit of a wild and out of character weekend not too long ago. I might as well take up Championship football at this rate I went so off the chart. Quick Wenger, call me up before the transfer window is over! (I just wanted to squeeze the name of the blog into partial sense, rather than actually insert myself into the game, although it may be the only way to get SOMEONE's attention right now). 

Anyway, the ladeez on Friday night persuaded me to ditch the habit and wear a Fran 2006 playsuit out. Very uncharacteristic. Where's my red puffa jacket? Where's my Tims? Unfortunately Anna had even banned cotton so most of my Mum's trousers were out. No thermal leggings to sneak under it. WELL, clearly no consensual sex this weekend then! 

Also very out of character- I bought and made my own dinner that night! Chaz was having a ladeez boozeh dinner but she was too busy being drunk or fun or something to cook for us so I supplied parsley, cheese, eggs, spinach and various other spaghetti carbonara ingredients from the fridge de Granny. First time in ten months that I'd cooked a meal I do believe! 

Might as well go out wearing Ro's sex rags and slag bol it up. I'm as forward as Theo Walcott these days! 

Oh no, but I've got the washing up to do... Another night maybe. 

Foraging for tampons

It was very heavy work cleaning Ro's room to move into it. I had the hoover out all day, and Lexie backing me up as a sniffer dog foraging for hair extension balls and old tampons. He's got such odd taste in food.

I was exhausted by the end. 

Luckily I was going back to London for a lovely sleepover at Harrie's house. I'd heard a rumour that she had a memory foam mattress and I certainly wasn't disappointed. I wasn't sure I'd remember to leave in the morning!

But before we could snuggle down we tucked up our insides with a Greek feast. We had roasted aubergine and butternut squash, tomato and baby cucumber salad, and onions and feta. With figs and yoghurt for desert.

Ooh it was relaxing.

A berry nice time

 Did some classic Bob and Fran "stalking pretty children in art galleries" the other day at the National Portrait Gallery. There was a hot ginger pre teen with impertinent accessories who really needed taking down a peg or five! Of course you can have a small coral handbag when you have a Mum to carry your water bottles and sandwiches. Pah. Just you wait till you're our age and you can only afford to drag round the old tote you got in Berlin in 2005 (sorry Bob). I'm not even mentioning the bag of muddy vegetables I was carting around in Granny's battered Holland and Barrett.

After we'd poked holes in all the portrait awards we went to Hyde Park for some boating. It was lovely. We decided our calves needed more work than our upper arms so went for the pedalo. We pedalled round the lake feeding all the ducks the crusts of my smoked sandwich sandwich, and messy blackberries for pudding.  

No I didn't kill them. I'm only clearly not a fruitarian...


What good taste ducks. They were as happy as we were. And probably happier because at least they can see straight in direct sunlight! Aargh! Watch out for that boat!

It pomp-pays to be in the queue

The other day I was waiting in line for the Pompeii exhibition at 8.30am and Bob texted me. I told her what I was doing. She said, "What! Is that like the new One Direction or something? Did you camp overnight?"

Beep beep. Another text came through. She obviously wanted to get in on this action.

"I hear lead singer ASHley has a girlfriend. Let's troll her."

"More like (ancient) ruin her!" I hit back. Gosh we're funny.

Elated from this exchange I ploughed through the exhibition (after waiting for an hour and a half for it to  open) desperate to make it to the gift shop to stock up on merch. Luckily in hindsight, Katrina stopped me from buying a Rosetta stone tee shirt.

I wasn't sure what lunch would be I was so in the zone: official pompeii carbonised figs or seeds? Saxon fudge from the gift shop? Somehow Katrina steered me out of the British Museum and back into the real world and we went for a lovely Indian buffet nearby.

I needed sustenance after all that screaming with the other fans!

Bob falls flat(bread): The interview

When I met Bob for stalking teens in gallery time the other day I gave her a goody bag of veg from Granny's garden. My only friendship draw these days now i've got no hair or invites to Pizza East. 

She texted me the next day with a lovely photo of the vegetable chilli in homemade flat bread that she'd whipped up. It had one of the homemade beetroots, an onion, and a courgette. 

I asked her if she'd write a guest blog for me to fluff up my readers for when I decided to return to the blogosphere, and she replied, 

'You've read my texts. I can barely form a sentence!'

That is true. I've already had to change chile to chilli above. She's just so exotic and well travelled that she can't help naming all the countries she's been to in every sentence. 

I decided to interview her instead. "What was the occasion?" "Any mishaps?" "How did it taste?" "What was your inspiration for this piece?"

I only got one reply. 

"No occasion, just had lots of veg to use and trying to make DH love me by cooking nice dinners."

Well, Bob your interview skills are a bit flat even if your chilli was full of flavour!

Nigella sympathy

As I live in a nursing home and we have to keep the bathroom light on at night incase they fall, and the window open to waft any faint cheeks, we've been somewhat inundated with moths. 

It's very distressing for me during my mid morning bath when they start dribbling down from the ceiling into my bath, batting their little wings for help. I could spend a whole shampoo time clearing their bodies up sometimes. And I do help, I promise. I've practically opened a refuge centre for battered baths in the plant pot on the window sill.

Here's one of my more crushed clients.


Recently, once i'd cleaned them all up and set them on their way I set off myself to Brighton to visit Bob. With all that sympathy fresh in my mind, and no doubt told at length to her, we decided to do something else to help. Create a little more traffic on the Nigella site to feed her soul and her purse. She must need a few more pennies now Charles isn't giving her pin money for strangles.

We chose a chocolate olive oil cake to soothe Nigella's cause.


Mmm. Unfortunately I suddenly started wanting actual lunch so as brutally as Charles I brushed all thoughts of pudding away and Bob and I went to eat vegetables on the beach. Sorry Nigella. We didn't mean to actually be ANTI you...