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...."

Courgnot?

Had a bit of an accident whilst prepping dinner recently. Thought I'd be all au natural and use the garden produce, but not only did I accidentally use Jess' courgettes instead of mine, I also mistook her butternut squash for a gorge corge. It was a baby, and may I say, quite in disguise.

Never mind. I had a wild time with all my stolen goods. I made grated courgette, chilli, lemon, parmesan, and pine nut spaghetti, with an afters of roasted peaches with mascarpone. Personally, I find the seasoning of guilt as effective as pepper, which is lucky as I always forget to season the traditional way.

Something you may find useful: When you've grated the courgettes you have to squeeze all the moisture out of them in a tea towel. Then when as dry as Alex's humour you add them to the other ingredients and fry briefly.

OOh look how much Bob is enjoying that. Don't get that expression in Croyden, do you!

Harry Potato and the Sorcerer's sausages

I received a sign the other day that it was okay to eat sausages. I'd been querying them as Becky Sunshine's Granny calls them little parcels of surprises. And I don't really like risks, David Haddrell.

However, when I bought my potatoes to mash, one reached out to me in the form of the mark of Harry Potter! I felt like it was saying to me 'trust in the unknown, even though these sausages are only 64% meat, the rest of it isn't necessarily bad.'

Adventure panic over I fried up the saus saus, and ate them with mash, cider gravy again, and a bed of greens. Ever so warming. Then I watched an entire box set of Teachers as if I was in possession of Hermione's Time Turner and could seek solace in 1999.

The ricotta riots

People have been rioting that I'm so behind in my blogging! Can you imagine. Frustration from my fans had spread like pouring cream right from Hackney to the North. Well, I am very popular.

Well don't worry. Abi, Juliet, and Louie B, you can stop anxiously facebook statusing, and start reading, as I'm BACK!

I've got loads of courgettes from the garden- well not my garden really but from someone who wanted to feed me up- so I googled what

on earth to do with them. The BBC seems to think that creamy courgette lasagne is a good idea. I will have this with beetroot leaf salad. The beetroots are not seasoned with stolen, but mine you'll be pleased to know. My first crop.

The aftermath: We very much enjoyed this sat in the garden with our four bottles of wine. Afterwards we watched Twilight and painted our nails. I even managed to sneak Mum's favourite fuchsia onto Alex's toes when he was distracted with his wine. They looked blooming lovely!