I cleaned the kitchen this morning, including the cooker, the hood and all the cupboard fronts. Can I have a star please? I am not cooking in it ever again except I agreed to make Mr Smith a rather lovely looking pudding he set me from the Cordon Bleu book in a "bet you can't cook that" kind of way. Bet I can. Oh God, I've just read the recipe and it involves making hard caramel then grinding it up with nuts to make a special praline dust. We might improvise here.
I was going to see Internet Dating Jane at her country retreat today; a house near Folkestone that she is redecorating in order to flog. I bet she's done a grand job. However, she is not well today and there was some hint of me helping with the decorating so I am not going. I hope Private Ryan is looking after and her little dog nicely.
Imagine the brightest orange you possibly can, now up it a bit, and that's the colour of Mr Smith's golfing trousers today. All he needs is a little green hat and he'd make a passable nuclear carrot. The dog tried to avoid his morning walk and the bin men fell about laughing. I am wearing dark glasses in anticipation of his return.
Cor, bet you're glad you don't live in Japan. Looks dead scary. I'll avoid sushi for a bit.
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