Richard Phillips cooked English lamb and liver, Nick Watts made sashimi with red mullet and daikon, Charles Metcalf brought in the booze, Paul Young provided the easter eggs and my body has gone into revolt. Just how many bloomin’ bits of chocolate can you eat? I have a cake waiting for me, made by Eric Lanlard that is so big I can’t fit it into me fridge.
As we near the end of the run, I am all of a dither.
It took three young folk to bring my boxes into the flat. Five and a half years of shoes, tops and assorted trouser wear. If I put it all on ebay, I should make a fortune. If I give it to charity, they will make a fortune. If I give it to my next door neighbour for him to boot-fair, he will make a fortune. What a conundrum. Boxes, boxes everywhere and ne’re a spot to think.
I have come to the end of jobs before but this one does feel different.
I came into it with with very little knowledge of gourmanderie. I leave all this time later with more than enough cookery books, cookery terms and cook’s telephone numbers that I never need to worry about eating out again.
Inevitably, I have just eaten bacon, eggs, tomatoes and fried onion for supper. I really know how to give a girl a good time.
I am very tired so that is all you are going to get this evening unless I think of something scintillating.
I have to go to bed now with two hairy bikers who are on tomorrow’s show. So wish me luck as I wave you goodbye. Cu2morrer.