India can wait

What’s the worst I can do? Lie.

Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. Somewhere deep inside my addled brain I really thought I would go to India but here’s what happened. For three nights I haven’t slept. I’m not saying I am the New Messiah, but when I rose this morning I knew that something had shifted.

I showered really early. So early that the dawn chorus was just clearing it’s throat. Then I jumped into my little car and set off for London. Don’t be silly – of course I got dressed first.

I have a two seater red Mazda MX something or other (I don’t care about that bit) with a soft top and a very good sound system, although Jim reckons his controls are better than mine. (What is it with boys and their knobs?) I clambered into my seat, put on a wooly Tibetan hat that makes me look like a very sad old meer cat, checked the time, 7.00a.m., and put my foot down.

It wasn’t exactly cold but it wasn’t warm either. By the time I reached Streatham, I’d thawed out. I arrived at the flat in time to check my emails (lovely people you are), strip the bed and change into my trainers.

Then I walked very briskly. So briskly that when the white van men honked their horns, I knew it was less about my hour glass shape and more about certain body parts wobbling and my little legs taking me as fast as they could. I arrived in Sloane square with 30 minutes to spare.

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Courage mon brave

Okay, Good Food Live has finally been confined to the media dustbin. After five years of eating, laughing, interviewing, drinking, posing, munching, crying, learning, the new powers that be decided to take us off air. The set got cruddier, you could see the sellotape holding it together. From a meagre budget we were given pin … Read more