So hangover day has consisted of me wearing my Christmas pj’s adorned with snowmen, my £2 gap t shirt with it’s dubious stain on the front that is for slobbing purposes only and eating copious amounts of food to shake off the empty feeling that comes with too much cheap vodka. It was really a bad moment to be tempted to watch Shutter Island singly one of the most confusing things I have ever sat through. Although I feel almost Stephen Hawking-esque for announcing my take on it 20 mins in only to find that was the twist people said we would never ever get. Ever. Never in a month of Sundays. It was like the whole Sixth Sense moment again. I knew he was dead cos he only wore that one shirt. Shallowness paid dividends at that moment. People at University thought me akin to Nostradamus at the time.
My Ina recipe for the day was Mac and cheese. Minus the truffle butter. But plus a few chilli flakes in the breadcrumbs topping. Was gorgeous. That’s what happens when all you have in is two types of hardening cheese, milk and the remnants of three packets of pasta that between them made enough for two. I think Ina would accept this. Even she must understand that in these austere times, one cannot waste pasta. And when it’s dinner in front of a movie with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, who says macaroni, fusilli and conchiglie are uncomfortable bedfellows?
Certainly not me, that’s for sure.
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