Feeling very sorry…..

For oneself that is. I have not been naughty. Well, maybe a tad but nothing to write home about.

Our rock and roll experiences continued over the weekend. Add in the excitement of outlet shopping, foccacia baking (tsk, those bake offers are beyond amateur in my eyes), boeuf Bourguignon making, lemon polenta cake baking, pesto making and a dinner at Las Iguanas and you have a full bank holiday weekend. I drank loads. I mean, like 5 alcoholic drinks. Im an insane person. Once upon a time, I’d be out Friday, Saturday and Sunday over a 3 day weekend. These days, I’d rather be up at 7am so I can have a full day and get my hair cut. I’m an animal.

I have spent 2 days feeling very cold filled and sorry for myself. Honestly, my bottom lip is scraping the pavement, I’m so sorry for myself. It’s in context as I am the homosexual equivalent of Pippa Middleton on Saturday. Now without that cowl necked dress, I have to make something work for me. Ok, I have the ass. I have a round, peachy bum that is Pip-esque, but it will be concealed by the tails of my morning suit. And my fear is the Robbie Fowler-esque nasal plaster I have that I’m hoping will prevent Pete from having to perform some murderous act mid-evening may detract from my moment of glory following the bride down the aisle this Saturday in Cheshire. That’s right people, I know someone from Cheshire. I’m officially posh by proxy.

Big exciting news on the wedding that I can’t share. Let’s just say, gift wise, if I were Catherine I’d be loving me more come Sunday morning than I did Saturday morning. My taste is exquisite. I can’t say more. Catherine is one of the few non-Ukrainians or Latvians who reads my blog. Or one of the few people who haven’t come across this post in a google search of Pippa Middleton and bum, probably looking for some weird fantasy fiction involving Pippa, Prince Harry and his decorative sword’s handle. But Catherine- you are gonna love it!!

Students moved in next door. Boys and girls from what I can hear. Here’s hoping they are quiet. So far, so good. But it’s been mere moments. But I live in perpetual hope. Other exciting news I’m off to see an evening in conversation with Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall!! Yes, River Cottage’s Hugh! And his new shorter hair do! With Mademoiselle Anne Shears, of the Saltash Shears family! Two food obsessives, with Pete and Amy dragged along for good measure, hanging on his every word. Before scurrying off for an inevitable boogie, followed by reading Christmas books, stirring up a Christmas cake or 3, and a snooze in front of Miracle on 34th Street or Elf I suppose. In mid October! How excited one is, I can’t believe it. Anne comically commented that the 6 week turn over from inception to execution of this weekend plan is positively spontaneous for us. Let’s face it, our Royal Wedding plans started the day that bloody sapphire ring and blue wrap dress first graced our telly at 7pm in lieu of the One Show. I was mentally curing that salmon for over 6 months. This do? The Sheffield-Plymouth planning equivalent of Anne and I’s top draw texting before meeting in The Treasury circa 2004. I’m slightly nervous about the in conversation element. But brainstorming topics, such as the chicken business, the sustainable farming, the fishing crisis, organic vs non-organic etc etc, as well as his new love affair with veg over meat in time for his veg book, I think I can work out the format and topics. And in the words of Ina, how bad can that be? I love to hear him talk.

I think Hugh is on my list of mature men I’d date. My list goes Karl Kennedy from Neighbours, Harrison Ford, Richard Madeley, Paul Hollywood, HF-W, Hugh Bonneville, Kenneth Branagh, of course the obvious Clooney, Michel Roux Sr (Just for that Bonjour alone) and of course Raymond Blanc. And in a non-boudoir way, I’d turn companion for Antonio Carluccio. Never before have I wanted to cuddle someone more than I did Antonio throughout Two Greedy Italians, which remains my TV highlight of the year. I loved it.

Right, I’m babbling. I took some genius photos in York. I found the place where any taste in ceramics must be checked in at the door. Amy actually found it, I must give her props for that. She made M C and I stand and brace ourselves before we entered. She announced it as a “whole other world”. And my gosh it was. Check back later for the visual treats of decapitated mer-people, rabbits attempting to perform fellatio upon themselves and the creepiest fairy lights ever seen.

On that note, sleep well dearest readers.

Blog later folks xx

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

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