Citric acid

I was eating my breakfast grapefruit half this morning when I realised it was very bad tasting. On closer inspection it seemed a bit off. It was brown. Eurghh Granny! Someone didn't have her glasses on when she was laying out breakfast this morning.

I thought I'd better finish it as I didn't want to distress her, and I only had a bit left anyway. 

But now I feel a bit sick. 

I don't really feel well enough the finish this blog post. Maybe later. 

Great fruit

I was on the train at 8am on Easter Friday, sitting behind three people on their way to Alton towers. Unfortunately for them they were annoying and I was tired and so began an hour of possibly subtle mind games.
There were two Australian women, one British guy with a black leather studded wrist band who cleared worshipped their particular brand of exoticism. He practically didn't even talk. He just listened wide eyed to them screech about "wagging school" and how "there isn't a Pret in Brisbane".

I peeled my piece of fruit and listened to them discuss, confused, what the smell was. "Whaaaat's that?" They howled. "It smells like oorrange and cooffee? Maybe it's a chocolate orrange?"

It's Grapefruit suckers. I decided I'd tell them where the smell was coming from if they guessed it but they didn't. I wondered if I should put my peel in the pocket of her coat which is over the back of the chair.

One of the girls then flung her hand over my seat. She needs her nails cutting. She might like it if I did them for her.

Luckily for them I shortly arrived at Rugby station. I took the peel with me, the law abiding citizen that I am. But then left it in the car. A day later Mum said, "Is it you who has left that orange peel in the car?"
Oh God not this again. GRAPEFRUIT!  It's GRAPEFRUIT! You'll be telling me there isn't a Pret in Monks Kirby next.

Heaving

I decided to take Louis out on a hot date to Craft in Hackney Wick for pizzas. We walked along the canal to find the place very busy but with a lucky table outside in the evening light.

I was feeling the romance flowing with our 9% craft ales until a Spanish girl with a very low cut top asked to share our picnic bench. We were snuggled on one side leaving her the whole other side to parade her breasts on.

Oh great. I was expecting to eat a feast not to stare at it! Is Louis looking? Can't tell. Maybe he's nuzzling my neck just to crane forward for a better view? Maybe he hasn't even noticed and it's just me? Maybe I should ask for the pizza cutter to cut open my own tee shirt? Hers are only a bit better than mine and that's just because she's fatter!

Ah Maybe when the pizzas come I could rub some melted Stilton into Louis' eyes. That's the one.

When they came they were very nice. As heaving  with ingredients as her chest.

We had sweet potato and Stilton and walnut, and something with some other vegetables on.

A girl named Fran

Some bitch named Jack seems to have stolen my schtick. Just because she's a tomboy and she knows the supermarket freezer cabinet like she knows the cover to cover of the tv times (because she never goes out either I assume) she's shot to fame. Oh puhlease. I've been passing off frozen veg  and quorn mince as gourmet bolognaise for years! Would it help if I got a little boy? Not really sure where to get one of those. Frozen aisle? Distract its parent in the Aunt Bessie section.

Failing a book deal I can still please the fans at home. This is a recipe I stole off her. Tit for tat.

Pearl barley risotto with sweet potato. Just cook the sweet potato, then cook the pearl barley with stock over it. Then add feta. As simple as her raggedy hair cut. 

Sick of you

Lexie and I are spending too much time together now I live at home and don't see any friends. I came home from uni the other day to find he'd eaten my last other companion in a fit of jealousy. A near life size white chocolate dog. I found the red ribbon once snappily adorning my dog's neck at the top of the stairs in a pile of dripping sick. Lexie clearly also had a side of grass.

Seeing as I now feel Ill anyway I don't mind eating a churned up bowl of something in the same colour scheme. I made a salad of pink grapefruit, peeled cucumber, avocado and nuts. I ate it quickly trying not to look like I liked it too much incase Lexie's watchful eyes suspected an affair and snatched it from my jaws. SO clingy.

Suckle on this

Sam is so weak now that I'm wondering if I'd better start breast feeding him. I must be full of milk since I learnt about my oestoporosis prevention window (age 29 practically no more calcium gets in) and started yoghurt loading. I had eight today.
I'm surprised it doesn't just drip out and stain my extensive range of woollen clothes. When I actually have a baby I'll probably end up accidentally breast milk water boarding it.

Sam seems to like being held like a baby anyway. Good practise.

Mollycoddling him further I made us these soft oat and nut snack bars to keep us going. I mixed porridge oats, all mum's honey because i'm sweet like that, jam, nuts and peanut butter together then baked it with a topping of seeds. Having no teeth he does take a while to eat a bar of it but it at least that'll keep him busy whilst he lives forever.

Fran and the beanstalk

It's a point of pride for me to eat the entire apple. Stalk, pips, core. My party trick shall we say. It started when I was working at the eating disorders unit and my delusional soon to be ex boyfriend and soon to be sacked co worker told the patients that apple pips had cyanide in it. To prove a point I ate a whole apple sans stalk infront of a table of malnourished patients with open mouths.

Then I was on the overground recently and I heard three ten year olds talking. "I can eat the whole of an apple" said one smugly. All of it? The others chorused. "Pips, and the core", she bragged. "Oh but not the stalk."

That was when I upgraded. All or nothing.

By now I'm pretty experienced at my apple party trick but I had a bit of a shock recently when an apple pip dropped out my mouth shortly before eating. And it was growing a stalk.

What if that was inside me? What would happen? I've known Douglas Firs grow in people's lungs before from inhaled pine needles. Nice dark warm environment.. This would surely go the same way.  I decided not to chance it. I'm probably magical enough! I shall stick to my other two party tricks of downing a pint of water and letting people touch my upper arm skin.