A cracking picnic!

Dave came to visit me recently (not really, it was November. I've caught bloglag off Mark) and a lovely Autumn day in Richmond Park was on the menu.

Or so we thought....

We kicked off with a woodland spread of meat, cheese, crusty bread, fruit, pastries. During the conversation I wondered aloud if my future boyfriend would want to have woodsy picnics with me. Dave thought that no one would if I carried on eating like that..

We mopped the crumbs and salad dressing from our coats and set off for a bike ride among the frightened deer.

We had a hearty cycle and then Dave felt it was time to go home for crumpets and tv. I had a little pout at this as I didn't feel we'd had enough adventure.

"Dave, can we go off the cycle path?"

"Probably not a good idea, lets just carry on."

"But what about this massive bracken and tree covered hill? It would be loads of fun to cycle down pretending we were Ed and David Tithecott."

"Hmm, no, looks too dangerous."

Pout pout.

"Oh, ok, if we must."

Once I'd sailed shrieking down the hill merrily dodging thickets and small animals, I stopped and looked behind for my partner in crime. Oh dear he'd fallen off. I slunk back and asked if I could take a picture of him fallen off his bike to show what a smashing picnic we'd had. Dave

unfortunately had concussion and couldn't remember the picnic, why he was in Richmond Park, or indeed why on earth he would ever want to visit me....

Five hours, many attempts to chat up the ambulance men, and a diagnosed broken collar bone and concussion later, we were free to get a seventy pound taxi back from Kingston hospital with Dave's mangled bike and a scornful Rhapsody in the back.

Oh don't worry, I managed to finish the picnic in the hospital cubicle.

Fransgiving

I know I know, every day you raise thanks be to God or someone, for the daily blessing of moi in your lives. What on earth would you do without my cooking bible advising you against eating the vegelez option on planes, and such.

With this in mind I threw an early Autumn thanks giving party for my ten favourite food pilgrims.

Coming the same day I stumbled off a waking night I was imagining it as akin to the trauma of those arriving in the New World. But thanks to the hours early arrival of Chazney, and the hours late arrival of my guests it was pulled off with no stress. In fact, I would say, with aplomb!

The day before I'd simmered the red cabbage with brown sugar, red wine vinegar, some old red wine, cinnamon, chopped up apple, red onion, and some lemon or orange juice (I can't remember really). This took two hours.

Then rising from my waking night shift nap I put the chickens and sweet potatoes in to cook before stewing myself in a nice invigorating bath. Was ready and dripping to answer the door

to Chaz at 4pm and to begin instructing her in most of the prep whilst I stuck into the mulled wine.

The sweet potatoes I squeezed ou t of their skin and mashed the flesh with lime and cinnamon, bedding them into a dish with a blanket of mini marshmallows to roast in the oven. This would go, I hoped, with masses of white mashed potato, green bean

casserole (Nigella's sex talk for cooked in loads of butter, and lemon), and the magnificent red cabbage. We had apple and chestnut stuffing, and jugs brimming with thick onion gravy.

For pudding we had hot apple and pumpkin crumble with a very crumbly brown sugar topping, and cornish vanilla ice cream melting all over it.

To set the scene I scattered, nay, tipped, three bags of autumn leaves over the kitchen floor. Just incase they didn't get the autumnal theme. And because I had nothing else to do the following day but sweep up leaf dirt.

White water shafting

A few days later we were renewed, massaged to within an inch of our lives, clean, and fighting over the two pretty dresses between five girls trying to attract Sherpas.

We decided that to break up the remaining days in Katmandu we'd go white water rafting. It was loads of fun. Mid dangerous white water whirlpool bit, Joe shouted over the spit to me that I looked euphoric. Well, I am used to water. I have a bath most days.

I did need some cleansing as I'd had a terrible shock that morning.

The hotel had given me my wake up call for WWR (white water rafting for those in the know) at 5am instead of 6. Once I'd trundled down there and realised their mistake I decided to bed down in the dim light of the lobby sofa with the door man (separate sofas), and wait. There I was waiting patiently like a little angel, so as not to wake Eleanor if I went back upstairs, and something most unjust happened... Little Heather was creeping into the hotel at 6 am, followed shortly but "decently" after by a cocky Pemba. As you can imagine, I was askance!

I mean, I knew he was married, but I did not sign up to this! He's probably given me Legionnaires disease or asbestos. I've a good mind to circulate this scandal to Childreach. He's very lucky that this is just my private diary.

In absolute turmoil I ignored them both for the next few days until poor Heather broke down crying on the plane home. After she'd apologised I taught her the word degrading and she pronounced me wonderful. Practically sainted.

Sticking with my Saint Fran outlook on life I plumped for the Vegelez meal on the plane only to not at all get just desserts when it was absolutely disgusting. They gave us an apple to compensate for our sour faces.

And that was the end of that.

In suspense! Of whether we will make it home

After the excitement and lets just say, anti climax of the night, we were due for a long hard day of walking. I suppose at least we were doing something. A couple of days before I was so bored that I wondered about using up my stock of tampons unnecessarily, just to fill half an hour.

Need not have worried about being bored as my entire day was filled up with walking. And crying. And aching. And being drenched and cold from torrential rain. AND having to be pulled up the last few miles of mountain by Pemba as I couldn't move my own muscles any longer. Let me tell you that's all he's going to pull now after ignoring me all today.

Anyway, a suspension bridge had collapsed in the earthquake meaning we had to forge our own path up two extra hours of almost vertical mud and trees. One stumble would have meant dropping off the sheer face of the mountain. Ssh don't tell Mum.

Eventually got back to Lukla. The village where our whole trek had started. I cried quite a lot and then moped around, well more rolled I was so padded with down. I really have never been in so much pain in my life. I was chain paracetemolling for days after.

I think we had some hot garlic soup that night. Mixed with drops of my tears of pain.

Rock my body

We arrived back at Namche Bazaar, home of the highest pub in the world. I was planning on it being quite a fun night, if you know what I mean, so made sure I splashed out on a £4 shower.

Nice and clean I sauntered up to the dining room. At that moment the room shook. Well I wasn't sure if it had. Blind Spice announced that it did and I had started loudly and viciously deriding her when the Sherpas started screaming earthquake and everyone charged at the door. I obvs went too.

We stood outside in the dark, very scared. All the lights had gone off in the village. There hadn't been an earthquake in Nepal for 80 years. It was really scary. But after a while we got bored of waiting in the cold dark and sloped back inside for our dinner of yak steak. After we were settled round the table the Danes ran in armed with first aid kits and muscles, shouting 'is anyone injured??' We all looked at them like they were mad. Err we're eating..

FYI yak steak tastes like cat food. I forced it down and rushed upstairs to pick my tightest thermals out and 'do my face' in a non mountain trek way, ready for the proposed bar trip!

Cut to three am. No one could accuse me of not keeping morale up.

We had to stay awake till midnight to be ready to run from aftershocks. So £25 of Everest whisky and lots of dancing with the Sherpas later, I was somehow back exactly where I'd planned. In Pemba's excuse for an en suite.

Now that was what you call a natural disaster!

In a curry to go home

During the night I was sick twice. Once I couldn't even be bothered to get up to go to the toilet so I just did it on the sheet. Add my print to the selection of stains already there.

El's alarm woke us at 3am for the sunrise walk up Kalaputur to view Everest. I was quite pleased I'd been sick as then I could have a lie in. Pemba came to my sleeping bag to touch me up, I mean feel my glands, and he declared that I was definitely too ill to go. I took his advice. Always trust your guide.

Hours later the others came back, we had omelette for breakfast, and began our descent. You'll be pleased to hear that within four hours we'd dropped down so far that my mountain fever was quite cleared up. I'd survived. Unlike the Danish firefighters who'd had to be carried down by a horse as they'd gone temporarily blind with altitude sickness. Hmm. Maybe my one or two trips to the cinema in my walking boots did prep me better for adventure than their two months of hard training.

Had a really nice curry for dinner and I perked right up.

Got my book out and looked very interested in nothing else but that in front of Pemba. Worked like a charm as suddenly he was at my side asking about it. Not sure he can read but had a go at explaining it anyway.

Then I played charades by myself to entertain everyone before bed.

A Nepalling day

Dear reader,

Some very sad news. I have been struck down by altitude sickness. And I'm not just faking so I can get a medicinal greasy headrub from Pemba.

Today we started the day with a hearty breakfast of pancakes and PEANUT BUTTER. All far so good. I ate loads. I knew however, that it wasn't a good idea to go to the toilet as the smell would make me sick. Braved it and found a relatively clean one, but unfort I made myself sick by doing a huge poo and then looking down at it. Pancake poured right back to batter. I'm such a sensitive flower.

So I was already feeling a little faint when after my daily hug with the Danish fireman, Jens, I dragged my body out the door. Somehow, I managed to plod the 4 hours requisite to get to the next bleak little village. It was like walking uphill with flu. We had lunch. I ignored my popcorn.

And then another two hours along the glacier range to Basecamp. Was so BORING. Once I could see it I nearly sat down and announced that I couldn't be bothered. Somehow made it, just to sulk in all the photos, refuse to wear my childreach tee shirt, and lie on the floor eating snickers bars.

On the way back I was quite happy with the idea of lying down to die. Seemed better than the "sensible" option of walking another 2.5 hrs back to a dirty guesthouse for a dinner of potato encased in pastry.

Feeling Lo(buche)

Was a day so hard that I couldn't move, speak, or not cry when I arrived at Lobuche for lunch. Luckily the Danish firefighters were there to rescue me with a hug once El had mopped up the most shambolic pieces of me. Jens gave me some good fire fighter cum hero tips on how not to freeze to death. Obvs used them to scare Blind Spice later.

The terrain was so bleak that it looked like where they'd film the end of the world scenes.

Rocky, misty, so hard. My legs quivered with each step.

After a lunch of rice and chips and lots of mint tea we had a really hard acclimatisation trek up to a glacier.

In the evening I developed altitude sickness and felt so faint. All I wanted to write from then on is BLEURGH BLEURGH BLAH.

Oh we had egg curry for dinner.

Crying high

Woke up really early and the view from our guesthouse was spectacular. We were so excited we ran out. We'd arrived yesterday in a bowl of cloud so it looked like we were about to topple off the edge of the world. This morning the small farming community was surrounded by snow capped mountains gleaming in the sunshine. The villagers were already hard at work in the potato fields at 7am to harvest the potatoes before winter.

We had a crazy hard walk uphill 500m to acclimatise. We were so slow and finding it hard to breathe that it took hours.

After lunch of tuna sandwiches and chips we showered, fleeced up, and lay in the sun on the tin roof. I want to hang out with the Sherpas more- mainly for cuddles- but am settling shyly for sitting near and shooting coy looks. Then we went to the bakery for coffee and cake. Was great to get out as the afternoons get a bit stir crazy. We invited the Danish fire fighters we ran into. They're very muscley and talk about combating pain and fires.

One swallow does not make a summer('s evening pleasant)

Walked through wispy willow trails. Blah blah blah. I'm too cold to write.

Everything then got covered in cold, Freudian slip, cloud.

All we can see is white we're so high. The walks are really hard. Stumbling, trudging up hill, like walking with flu. And the steep descents hurt our knees.

Ah my slanty writing in my diary looks like Bob's. I miss her.

Oh I forgot: At lunch Josh asked if it's safe to eat cold chips. Chantal probably knows as her Mother is a Doctor. She uses this as her evidence for everything.

The guesthouse is nice. Big communal room with benches all around which we bring our blankets on to for cuddling. Been feeling really low and need lots of closeness. Trying to use the girls rather than pouncing on Joe and scaring him, or my dear Pemba. Oh i'm so cold.

El kindly let Josh have an Ibuprofen. This was the start of 8 hours of him wretching brown (snickers) saliva over his hands, trousers, the table, our dinner. I moved for pudding. He was convinced he had it stuck in his throat and needed an operation. Pemba gave him two options finally.

1) Descend in the dark 8 hours down to Namche to see a Doctor

2) Be helicoptored to Katmandu in the morning.

I was so fed up of it I was willing to take one option myself.

He went to bed and we played a game of celebrity name on the forehead before we retired ourselves.

Ding dong Dingboche

Slept really well unlike some poor souls who couldn't breathe in the altitude. Had a really nice pancake breakfast but the toilet smell was so rank that I was promptly sick. No more pancakes. Was restored enough to walk with a kendal mint cake, nutri grain bars and fruit tea from various kind associates. Still thought I was going to die most of the morning. I felt so sick and shaky.

Bit revived after a nice Pocohontas sing song with Qing and a potato curry and some sort of yorkshire pudding to mop it up. We sat outside in the beating sun with a view of the waterfall below and mountains book-ending us.

Was a really challenging ascent for most of the 6 hrs. I went painfully slowly at the back until Pemba lent me his Ipod. Went a lot faster listening to Usher describe exactly what he's going to make this lady for breakfast, lunch and dinner after she's "done" him a lot. I don't think I'd be that desperate for grape jelly on toast, or a Chinese takeaway.

OOh It's got so cold now that Pemba is wearing his down. I cannot resist a puffa jacket.

Hungover the hill

Slept through the wake up call and sulked down to breakfast late to much laughter from others.

Apparently I'm a fun drunk. Hardly call two beers drunk. Must have been the altitude.

The naughty kids were very useful to comfort me as we stumbled and moaned our way up 400m of steep muddy path. The town did look phenomenal from above. So neatly laid out in grey stone. Blind Spice thought she could see another waterfall. I thought I could see right through her opinion that she doesn't have an eating disorder..

We struggled heavily up the mountain and four hours later arrived at the highest hotel in the world. I had a hot chocolate and tried to raise my head off the table to drink it. I genuinely worried that I was going to die as my heart was racing so fast. I felt really guilty about the prospect of death if it was my fault from drinking at altitude.

Back in Namche, fortied by a lunch of chips, pasta and coleslaw we went to explore the town. Ash bought twenty chocolate bars. I thought this was a lot but in a few days I was salivating at her every step.

At the guesthouse I had a hot shower (only £3) and bumped into Pemba on the stairs. He was obviously awkward as he'd been grossly inappropriate, but I reassured him it was fine. Unforch I'm suffering the classic conclusion of a lamplight of affection withdrawn: developed a little crush on him. Eurgh. Like having a crush on Winnie the Pooh. Luckily I have lots of opportunities now i've run out of clothes to wander about in revealing thermals.

No success yet.

P p p p pick up a Pemba

After lunch time Momos (we'd asked Pemba to let us have Nepali food as it already felt too much like a school trip) we lazed away in the girls' room playing, 'Would you rather', wrapped in blankets safe from the freezing rain outside. Sophia bought £5 Pringles and it was fun and cosy picking away at them in her room.

There was umming and aahing later whether to go to the one pub we'd come across so far. Everyone was tired but I assertively announced that I wanted to go just for one Sprite, so we layered up and set off. The bar was a large wooden room covered in signed charity tee shirts, and a dj playing cds from a one disc slot. Even CDisco didn't leave two minutes between songs!

Speaking of... both Li Qing and Wo Wang (?) have asked respectively if I have Asian genes. They can smell a fellow exotique a mile up a mountain.

It may have been this attractive mystique or my wiggling to the music (only dance move I know), or the amount of whisky that Pemba had consumed, but as the others sensibly trekked back the the house, we began some dancing. The other naughty kids staying out late kept buying me drinks as I was the most fun. Then they got out the shots. I threw mine under a bench behind me as I couldn't imagine trekking up a steep hill the next day is too fun after Tequila. Stupid old Nepali bar woman saw me and complained I ruined the floor, but better that than my liver. I obvs denied it anyway and distracted everyone with some hearty hip wiggling.

It got later and later and I kept trying to extract myself. But every time I made a move to the pile of down and fleece I'd shed all the better to show off my thermal onesy, they'd snatch them away and sit me right back at my Everest beer. I was getting a bit desperate and my head hurt so I consented to being popped down on a carpeted bench under some coats until they were ready to leave. Next thing I know our responsible Sherpa guide is pressing me down and not with the weight of gore-tex. Hmm. I tried some Bob style desperate eye wiggling to Sophia and Charlotte, whilst hastily reshuffling my most unusual places to be courted list. This can zoom right past Weezer tribute night, but battle for position with concentration camp.

Although I did come away blotted with a few wet kisses, I managed to refuse his offer to, 'Come to my room', slurred hotly into my ear. Unforch grew to regret refusing the latter when my partners in crime crammed into the next door bedroom at the guesthouse and proceeded to discuss loudly how much they'd drunk. For the rest of the night..

High Alti-food

Woke up quite easily in our little wooden room. Having the extra duve had been really nice. The view of mountains of pine trees blanketing our window was incredible. We had omelette, toast, more omelette and toast, and hot chocolate, and set off.

It was very Pocohontas. All towering tree covered mountains, rushing milky rivers, and rickety suspension bridges.

It was a very hard uphill walk. Was drenched in sweat and so hot under the sun.

The paths veered between sandy slopes, and tumbling rocks, as quickly as my mood veered between calm, stoic, and I cannot listen to Blind Spice comment on another waterfall. Yes, there are a lot of waterfalls. There's also a lot of trees, rocks, clouds, and problems I have with you.

Took about four hours but eventually the steep path climbed round to Namache Bazaar clinging to the side of the mountain. We were very surprised as it is massive. About 100 largeish stone buildings with coloured tin roofs perched on a tiered grassy town. It falls away into a deep bowl of gully with, yes that's right Blind Spice, a waterfall.

In our bedroom we're the same height as the thick swathes of cloud misted the gully so it looks like the town falls away to nothing, to the bottom of the world.

Himalayer up

It was very cold in the evenings but most guesthouses were nice. Wooden inside from floor to ceiling, like in Twin Peaks, but less jazz music following my every sultry move.

Very cold and damp. We felt like we'd never get warm, however, a hot shower for £5 and all my red fleecy downy layers made me feel less chilled to the bone.

Ash, El and I went to get internet. The kids in the group followed us but a long queue combined with their short attention spans meant they soon peeled off to swap stories about PPE 101.

Afterwards in the room we made a sofa out of a duvet and cuddled together reading. It was so cold and misty outside that my tee shirts drying on the windowsill outside got icier. But we got cosier and fell asleep together on our sofa before dinner.

We entertained the kids over dinner (garlic soup, garlic potatoes, and vegetablely pasta) with word games and had loads of fun amid the popcorn debris. Laughed a lot.

Hasidic Spice was very annoying though. Her hair is probably so heavy on her head that her brain is slowed. She must have had it cut off when she got her first in Econboringnomics.

Anyway, it took Pemba about 15 mins to explain the next days plan to her and Blind Spice. Who by the way can't take a joke. Especially not about dying in her sleep due to being fussy and taking Altitude Sickness tablets unnecessarily.

Want to go to bed but it's just so cosy on our carpetted benches around the stove, and I don't want to miss Josh asking Usama and Daneel more probing questions about Ramadan, plane bombing, and generally being evil Muslims

The blind leading the blind

Walking was mostly very hot and sweaty. The tree covered mountains, rushing waterfalls, and clouds were very beautiful but it was a bit overwhelming so I preferred to look at my feet.

Eurgh, how can Hasidic Spice bear to live with her vision being blinded by those frightful ringlets.

Oh the title of this chapter comes from her best friend Shrew Face. She's wearing black prescription sunglasses and waving her walking poles about in front of her so I've nicknamed her Blind Spice. El and I keep getting stuck walking by her and have to swiftly move back.

We passed lots of cute Nepali children playing outside in the dirt. Everything here gets covered in dirt. We passed a landslide which had destroyed two houses and killed six people. Daneel took a photo. He snaps everything.

We stopped for lunch gratefully at one of the many guesthouses. Ah a familiar meal. Carb on carb.

Trekfast

Hasidic Spice (our leader dresses like she's from the 90s with hair like a Hasidic Jew), is wearing a tee shirt which says 'Anything unrelated to elephants is irrelephant.' I'll get it for Chaz as a joke. She loves elephants but will hate this.

Everything feels a bit damp like we're at a festival, but obvs better as no music, and it's an adventure.

We were woken at 7 am with knocks on the wooden doors of our little rooms. I found it very hard to get up. Felt a little cheated as I'd woken in the night and not been able to sleep again until I'd 'Quelled.' Yes, a side effect is feeling sleepy..

Was cold and damp but after I'd drenched my face with ice cold water from the tap I perked right up.

We had porridge and toast with a boiled egg for breakfast. My solid egg yolk fell out my egg and rolled across the room. We had yak butter.

We had our big bags loaded on to the yaks and we began our walk.

Our Lukla is in

Nestled in Lukla (2850m) in my guesthouse bed at 7.30am. It's up the first bit of mountain after the most dangerous airport in the world.

Last night in Katmandu we had a traditional Nepali meal. Here's a picture but the most important thing to know is that they start every meal with a starter of popcorn. Pemba our guide says school children take it to school for lunch too.

Anyway, I'm in my sleeping bag trying to rest whilst there is a lot of banging and screeching outside. Main yellow boy keeps yelling about 'going into town'. Where does he think he is? Sheffield? They're probably going to take emo photos of their walking boots in a circle from above, or every puddle and piece of yak poo they stumble on.

Katman(can I)do this?

Dear Everest Diary,

I'm at the airport trying to ignore the rest of the group until my actual friends arrive. Our leader person has made us put on our yellow charity tee shirts and have a photo. Hope my grimace doesn't break the camera...

Oh, El and Ash have arrived now which is nice. They're trying to make me mingle with the yellow monsters though. As a compromise I let the only other two Asian girls make a beeline for me. We can make a glossy black haired clique.

MMMm plane food. Looks like a serving of sick with an egg on top. Just WYDUAS's style.

What a scramble!

Before I climbed Everest I did a practise run in the lakes with my darlings. Had been told I needed to wear my walking boots in a bit and odd trips to the supermarket in them just wasn't cutting it.

We arrived on the Saturday and after much red wine, merriment and, 'Are you there Moriarty?' we tucked ourselves up to dream of sunny walks and sunny side ups. I was happily snuggled up with Roast and slept very well.

We bounced out of bed the next morning and set about our egg factory. If we were going to be scrambling up mountains we needed some

sustenance! I set Sashy to the task of toast butterer. She had almost as good a good handle on the butter knife as old Peaches used to. But lets not talk about that before breakfast...

Then we shimmed up loads of mountains only stopping when the Dad's announced it was tea break and Twix time. We were on top of the world!

Butterscotched

Seeing as I'd found Hampstead Heath so manageable I'm not too worried about climbing up Everest basecamp. Even so I thought I'd walk to the supermarket in my walking boots to practise a little more. Picked up some champagne to have for Dave's wedding party whilst I was there.

Whoever said there was no luxury in the great outdoors...

Then I had to swap my walking boots for heels as vertiginous as the Himalayas to go to the wedding. They were much admired and I was only felled when I sat down for dinner of five portions of butternut squash curry. It was very filling. Or so we thought until the staff caught Chazney rooting through the bins later desperately sniffing for curry sauce to hoover up. I was too busy excavating hidden bottles of champagne from behind plant pots.

For this much curry use 25 butternut squashes, loads of herbs, and stuff. Get some rice and pitta, get married, and serve.

The recipe for love

Actually recently, I went to stay at Pink Granny and Grampa's for a soothing spa few days.

But as it turned out there was more on the menu than relaxation...

Concerned that my whinging at home in bed wasn't bearing the fruits of romance, Granny had put all the cards in place to set up a date with Trevor the computer man. Very thoughtful. I probably do need a sous chef in the date department as I haven't made anything rise up on my own of late.

So, just before Granny wilted off for her afternoon nap she gave me some tips. Just like an estate agent I was to sell my wares by having some brownies in the oven.

Here they are. 100g chocolate, 200g grated courgette, 100g sultanas, some walnuts I found on the side, some amounts of brown sugar and butter and flour. See, low fat, just incase Trev likes them not as junky.

Then she gave me a brief: uni degree and location Geography at Wolverhampton; current job computer man; location Essex; hobbies: fixing computers obvs. We would have loads to talk about now.

So I whipped up the brownies, stuck them in the oven, brushed my hair, and got prepared to charm about Wolverhampton. I even had a jam jar ready which I needed help opening. I like to make a man feel useful.

Ding Dong....

"Hello, is the laptop ready?" "Yep. Here it is." "Ok. I'll bring it back next Tuesday". "Ok. Bye."

Oh dear. I had to eat almost all the brownies after that to console myself. I'm not very good at this. Luckily the brownies were delicious.

Ever rest

Need to wear in my walking boots before I mount September's summit so took my boots and Mama for a trip up Hampstead Heath.

Everest. Hampstead Heath. Potato.

Atop a hill we had a lovely picnic from Emporium bakery: vegetable pizza, tarte tatin, lemon tarte, peaches, pears, and cherries.

Then we trekked back in time to a 1950s German holiday camp as we dived into the swimming lake.

All those bodies wriggling together just like the broccoli and artichoke on our pizzas.

Su she

I'd heard terrifying tales from Chaz and Bob of how *ahem* fun Lady Gaga Judas dance class was. So you can imagine I was quite quaking when I rolled up slightly late to the Shoreditch Studios, not so awfully long ago.

Luckily one of them had messed it all up and we were actually booked in for a session of calming yoga. Ahhhh. "God" is smiling on me..

Turns out I've got loads of stamina and core strength, as long as I'm allowed to mutter derogatory comments about the teacher under my breath to Bob. Chaz was stuck down stream wedged between the lycra clad bottoms of the only two sweaty men in the class. "And turn to your left.."

She must have been quite glad when we retired home to a cleansing sushi dinner.

Ever so simple to make, according to chef Bob. Get her to make a blog if you want to know how. I only know how to eat it. xxx

Cheese please

Beaten into submission from an avalanche of boys, bucca, and the Carling Academy Angel (they don't know any better..), we were really in desperate need of something comforting one Sunday. Who to call? Mama Nigella.

If Mama Nige had really come round she would have cleaned up the glass of sick by my bed, figured out why my modest polo shirt had been knotted into a belly top, and told Bob to stop spitting drinks in my face. As it was she bought my sleepy Chaz and Roast and the recipe for her, "back from the bar snack".

It goes like this: "Aaah.' *Gets up and stretches in white silk gown*. "It's 3 am, I need a snack to soak

up all those cocktails I supped last night. A sack of new potatoes, pack of bacon, whole pack of cheddar and frozen peas should do it. Cook , yawn, mush together and there you have it. All down my gown."

So we ate this whilst making her quadruple

chocolate loaf to take (mostly all of) to Marky's birthday BBQ.

We also watched 'He's just not that into you' and criticised Scarlett Johansson for being fat. She probably eats just as much bacon and cheese as us...

xxxx

Shine and dine

Cleaned the kitchen floor the other day (okay, fine, in June), so obviously couldn't get to the fridge to eat without getting wet feet. Big dilemma. Stay in and starve? No, as much as we need a clean floor, I'm sure Alex and Jess wouldn't want my death dirtying their conscience. No mop sorts that out.

With my hands thus tied I decided to go out for lunch with Roast. We had a big brunch at the Breakfast Club, and I had three drinks. Smoothie, Earl Grey, water. As we've agreed, the lap of luxury. My purse will be as clean as the floor soon.

Then we were still not sated so decided to walk to Ottolenghi via a paper selling shop, to get tea and cake.

We gorged ourselves on chocolate cake, carrot cake, and rich conversation. Probably too much as I couldn't quite be bothered to drag myself off the chair to go to my next engagement: a hot date at the tow path cafe. Great, more tea.

Of course it was no good anyway. Roast had quite spoilt me!

Lazy fare

Took to the boats not long ago (of course, I mean months ago, i'm just trying to disguise that I haven't blogged since May) with James and Bob. I always try to show guests the softer side of London/ make them row me around all day whilst I recline on the bow stuffing picnic into my mouth.

Anyway, RECENTLY, we did that, and we took with us a hamper of fresh garden produce from my own fair hands.

Tomato salade with a splendid lemon, pepper, salt, olive oil dressing, crusty bread to sandwich said tomato, then dip in said oily remnants, and sleepy Peter Rabbit salad leaves from the garden. Whenever I've had them I blame my afternoon naps on them. It's a wonder I don't end up in Mr McGregor's lair.

What did happen (on that very much only just passed occasion) is that James and Bob, taking advantage of my lettuce laissez faire, rowed me straight into the arms of some waiting fireman. They were on the bank testing out their equipment.... I only just managed to come to my senses before I got gang sprayed.

Luckily we escaped and I was rowed back into the middle to enjoy my pudding of peach pie. Pastry absolves all problems for me. As Antonio Carluccio says, "if only Libya ate pasta...."