I successfully hid from the intense girlishnesses of last night by hiding in the office and watching Lee Major movies. Merriol bought me up a tub of ice-cream, a half litre of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia! woo-hoo! It didn't taste right. I presumed it was because it had just come out of our freezer which keeps things too cold to be able to eat ice cream straight out of. (An ugly sentence but I'm too bushed to revise it).
I let the tub 'rest' for a bit - it didn't get any better, so I let it rest again. By now it was well within the WHO's comfortable ice-cream eating temperature range and it still tasted weird. (I had by this time still managed to eat a third of it - my tendency to persevere and eat thing while not convinced they are in fact edible is slightly worrying) only then did I realise what I was eating was not 'Ben And Jerry's (Original U.S. Recipe) Cherry Garcia Ice Cream', but 'Ben And Jerry's (Original U.S. Recipe) Cherry Garcia Low Fat Frozen Yogurt'. Not just Yoghurt, but 'LowFat' yoghurt! ('Low Fat' is just adspeak and means 'More Water') It's winter. I want to eat fat. I could eat lard by the bucketful right now. We are programmed to eat fat in vast quantities in cold dark wet winters (all right, MY body is programmed to eat vast quantities of fat in winter. Some sort of Eskimo gene perhaps? Who knows - whatever - 'Low Fat' yoghurt doesn't do it. I appreciated the thought though.)
Merriol finally fell into bed at 4am thoroughly waking me up. I went down to switch off all the lights and the (very loud) CD player, make sure all the (girly) candles were out before the house caught fire - they were all out, someone had poured red wine onto each one, and drape blankets over the recumbent body on the sofa. Even at 4 in the morning I realised that trying to sleep under a beanbag was not going to make for a comfortable night. Pausing only to wonder if the salad bowl was really was full of vomit I went back to bed. (I think the body on the sofa was Debs - I wasn't that awake at 4 in the morning and whoever it was wasn't there when I got up again at a more civilized time. The kids haven't asked me why she was sleeping on the sofa so I guess she must have gone before they got up too). In the cold light of day whatever was in the salad bowl still looked like vomit, so I dumped it in the compost heap.
I'm off to Glasgow to see Thea Gilmore this afternoon. I have swapped the spare ticket with Jackie for a night's kip at her place. I may suggest going for a curry after the show. Jackie being a total foodie will know all the best places to eat. If we do, I will be having a Koorma with as much full fat yoghurt and ghee as they can cram in.
I let the tub 'rest' for a bit - it didn't get any better, so I let it rest again. By now it was well within the WHO's comfortable ice-cream eating temperature range and it still tasted weird. (I had by this time still managed to eat a third of it - my tendency to persevere and eat thing while not convinced they are in fact edible is slightly worrying) only then did I realise what I was eating was not 'Ben And Jerry's (Original U.S. Recipe) Cherry Garcia Ice Cream', but 'Ben And Jerry's (Original U.S. Recipe) Cherry Garcia Low Fat Frozen Yogurt'. Not just Yoghurt, but 'LowFat' yoghurt! ('Low Fat' is just adspeak and means 'More Water') It's winter. I want to eat fat. I could eat lard by the bucketful right now. We are programmed to eat fat in vast quantities in cold dark wet winters (all right, MY body is programmed to eat vast quantities of fat in winter. Some sort of Eskimo gene perhaps? Who knows - whatever - 'Low Fat' yoghurt doesn't do it. I appreciated the thought though.)
Merriol finally fell into bed at 4am thoroughly waking me up. I went down to switch off all the lights and the (very loud) CD player, make sure all the (girly) candles were out before the house caught fire - they were all out, someone had poured red wine onto each one, and drape blankets over the recumbent body on the sofa. Even at 4 in the morning I realised that trying to sleep under a beanbag was not going to make for a comfortable night. Pausing only to wonder if the salad bowl was really was full of vomit I went back to bed. (I think the body on the sofa was Debs - I wasn't that awake at 4 in the morning and whoever it was wasn't there when I got up again at a more civilized time. The kids haven't asked me why she was sleeping on the sofa so I guess she must have gone before they got up too). In the cold light of day whatever was in the salad bowl still looked like vomit, so I dumped it in the compost heap.
I'm off to Glasgow to see Thea Gilmore this afternoon. I have swapped the spare ticket with Jackie for a night's kip at her place. I may suggest going for a curry after the show. Jackie being a total foodie will know all the best places to eat. If we do, I will be having a Koorma with as much full fat yoghurt and ghee as they can cram in.
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