2’s company 3’s a treat

On Sunday I pootled around the flat until it was time to go to LBC.
The show was all about Fussy eating kids, winter risottos, soups and fireworks.
Some callers called, texters texted and Glen e-mailed me from Hamburg.
Annabel Karmel brought in delicious home made white chocolate and cranberry cookies, which we devoured on air. Donna Hay flew in from Australia, Johnny Acton flew in from elsewhere, and Andy Hubble called in from a golf course somewhere in the South of England to talk fireworks and health and safety.
By the time I had traversed London, hit the M25, zoomed down the A21 and forked off towards Lewes – where they take great delight in burning effigies every year – the evening had set in.
I stopped off for a saveloy and chips and a large hunk of cod for the old man.
With the cornet of chips balanced in my lap, I consumed the soggy mass for the final six miles, my little car ended up smelling like a chippy, but when I arrived home I was full to the brim and ready to collapse.
Which is exactly what I did.
Jim arrived home late from filming, B arrived home late from Brighton where she’d been celebrating my eldest step daughters 37th birthday.
The three of us watched a whole pile of recorded programmes and then fell into bed late.

This morning the alarm went off early.
The sky was gun metal grey and the leaves on the tree a kind of orange liqeur yellow.
I stumbled down stairs, so that I could support Jim, who was starting his first day of rehearsals at the Queens Theatre, Hornchurch.
He left and I meditated.
The dog looked at me but he had to wait.
A man rung the doorbell, he had found a big black cat with white socks, not literally that’s the colouring, and had put it in a big cardboard box, our Emmy a strange mixture of tabby and tiger, was sleeping in the bean bag, still though, I had a moment of wondering whether it was her. How daft is that?
I drove into the Twillage and bumped into my old singing teacher who took me for a cup of tea.
We caught up on new news and old then he went off to deliver his courtesy car whilst I went shopping for bits and bobs, When I arrived home Jim was hoovering out his computer
‘What are you doing here?’ I enquired.
‘Tomorrow is the first read through. I needn’t have gone in. I’m cleaning my computer instead.’
the daft apeth had had driven all the way to Essex for a rehearsal that didn’t exist so I had him for the day. Lovely.
We took the old dog to Roman Road and had a 30 minute walk in the cold air. Its nice to have cold air again.
Then I went to me cranial osteopath to have me cranium osteopathically manipulated.
Then I had a facial.
They say that you can measure your self esteem by your willingess to be beautified. I must say my self eteem must be sky-high at the moment as I was very willing and luckily able to go.
I went out like a light, dreadful plinkity plonkerty new-age music going on but I was too comotose to care.
Rob, the agent called. ‘Food Poker’ hit the 1.6 million mark, which is a very good audience for that time slot, so hopefully they’ll be another series. That would be good for the chefs, and my voice.
I made a fabbo fish pie for supper, with haddock, smoked haddock (undyed of course) salmon and prawns, two boiled eggs, lots of black pepper and a thick bechemel sauce. But this time I included carrots, fennel, and celery in the mix. The crispy browned mashed potatoes on top was the cherry on the cake so to speak…..
B made a delectable lemon sponge which was polished off before our very eyes.
It was a really unexpected treat, the 3 of us eating together.
She then drove off to London whilst Jim and I retired, he in front of his clean computer, me in front of the papers.
It’s now past midnight, I’m off to bed as I’ve got all sorts tomorrow.
I’m collating those sausage tails, so keep em coming.
Have a good tuesday.
cul8tr.