I’m eating spinach, watercress and rocket salad with home made chopped liver.
I always make it the same way. Onion and garlic – lots of it -sweated in olive oil, loads of chicken livers cooked on high until the blood has stopped running then a big splosh of dark, syrupy sherry, seasoned until the juices are even more syrupy, all whooshed up in a food processor with raw onion and garlic added to give it bite then hard boiled eggs grated on top.
Bobs your uncle, or Becky’s your aunt, dee-lic-ious.
I am eating it as we speak.
My keyboard must have the best fed crumbs in London.
I normally write my blog the minute I get in from LBC, I’m always hungry
after 3 hours on air, but today I was particularly ravenous. The show was gruelling, I don’t know whether it was me, you or the News hounds.
The news was singularly uninspiring today, but, as usual, your calls, texts and emails kept the show afloat.
We discussed children growing up too quickly, The EU, Lisbon Treaty, permed hair, whitened teeth, wrinkle free creams and Breakfast in bed.
I was exhausted by the time LBC 97.3 turned into drive time.
To be fair I have been majorly distracted this week, what with Mothers Day, BB’s birthday and Jim moving into the flat.
My mother joined 22 other adults, four children, two babies and a Spaniel to celebrate the girl turning 21.
A home made cake was shipped in from Brixton with a massive bumble bee perched on top.
Not one crumb was left uneaten.
More champagne corks were popped, more glasses smashed, more merriment had than I had seen in a long time.
We sung around the piano, blew out the candles, tucked into chips and scampi and generally caroused until the last baby had fallen asleep in the debris of wrapping paper, discarded socks and half eaten onion rings.
It was the first time in my life that I fed people from frozen bags of oven ready fat-free potaotes. I did it, partly for the novelty but mostly because organising the do this year was way beyond my energy levels.
I was going to have it catered but that took forward thinking. Thinking has been in short supply these days let alone thinking of the forward kind.
I hope everybody enjoyed themselves, all the mothers were given their very own little gifts, including me. Bee’s card made me cry – of course.
The first of the crowd started going by 7.00, well we had been at it since lunchtime. I threw away the last of the broken glasses by 9.00. We organised Emmy the cat, packed up the cottage and left our homehelpers in place.
BB left first, her car laden with gifts from a ‘Prince’ album that was released the year she was born, her very own ‘Star’ that shines in the heavens called ‘BB21’, a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes, a basket of pink roses to go with the bottles of pink champagne not to mention her very own gene test to find out where she really comes from.
No, Jeremy Kyle fans, it’s not a paternity thing, it’s a swab to find out where her female line comes from. It’s either Spain, Egypt or maybe Accrington Stanley, the gift cost an arm and a leg so it had better cough up.
Jim followed behind in the Jackmobile, with the dog, the dogs accoutrements, the dogs bed, the dogs dinner and of course the mutts nuts.
I came in in 3rd place with aching feet, a bottle of water and a bag of CD’s to see us through until May which is how long I have the husband.
On arriving in London Town I promptly had to reverse the car out of the garage to take B’s friend back to her flat in London Fields, it was too late for public transport – well public transport that I approve of.
Another part of London revealed itself to me. Dickensian, dark and utterly different from anywhere I had ever been. I need to see it in the day time.
By the time I got back to the flat, listened to my hypnotape, and negotiated myself around Jims bags, Bee’s boots and the dog it was very, very late.
I awoke to the wall clock reading 9.o’clock. I leapt out of bed, squinted at the radio clock and realised the wall clock was 2 hours fast. I’ve since changed the battery so that we don’t have a repeat performance tomorrow.
Whilst doing my work out Jim dressed up in his bikers kecks and set off for Hackney where he begins his first day of Ibsen rehearsals.
I made my smoothie – apart from lecithin it has linseeds in it, don’t ask – I then set off in the bitterly cold sunshine.
I arrived late, there was a massive hold up in Earls Court, and set about thinking about the show, and that’s where we came in.
It was hard work, but satisfactory in the end.
If they paid me it would make it all worth while!
Ta ra, cu2morrer.