Oh Peter Chrisp I remember those Brighton parties (see comments below). When I can stomach it I'll write what I did to Joby once with half a jacket potato. But I remember walking up the road one morning with Mel, Smeg's girlfriend, following the trail of vomit that someone had left all the way up the road, someone who had clearly had a problem with an indigestible Spaghetti Bolognese plus alcohol the night before, finally deducing that that someone was me. O happy days....
Meanwhile, now I am an old lady, I have taken to knitting (actually, I always did it, much to the irritation of Bruv in the Chef's van). I have made a cardigan with very thick wool (grows quickly) that is unfortunately so thick it can stand up on its own, and I'm not sure I'll be able to bend my arms in it. Oh well, exercised the biceps I suppose, and possibly has delayed the onset of bingo wings for at least ten days.
My sister Mary's coming over for lunch at the noodle bar today. Luckily, I no longer consume stupid amounts of booze and I will leave no trail of noodles home afterwards for Hansel and Gretel to follow and eat my gingerbread house while I'm asleep.
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