Mothering Sunday
What’s the time lapse between carousing like Oliver Reed after he’s just bumped into Dean Martin and Peter O’Toole at a free bar and a hangover from Hell? I’m just home from a purported civilised lunch on Mother’s Day ( historically the fourth Sunday of Lent & the day when those in service were given a day off to visit their mothers) and I’m already feeling the creep of bitter pea green bile and incipient self inflected head trauma.
There's mum above looking all tickety boo and that’s that. No more pics. We went to our local Italian and were utterly devastated when we realised that there was no champagne, no creme de cassis, ergo no Kir Royales for mum. So, I thought what’s sweet and a bit icky? “Bring forward the Friar in his dark soutane and belted bottle” I cried.
I asked for two shots of Frangelico, in a glass, topped up with prosecco. Again and again and again. On the second, just as I crested that heavenly plateau I thought, we need a name for this delectable tastebud tickler, so in the name of the three Gods (you’ll only get that if you're in the UK and watched ‘Rev’ the other night) I baptise thee: “The Plenary Indulgence”. I also thought it would be a really spiffy idea to accompany our cannoli with hot chocolate, whipped cream and Frangelico.
Oh and I wore some clothes too. Here they are.
Old school label Brora jumper from their first collection yonks ago and a belle of skirt which our Dani sent to me.
Feel free to pick them up, they're on the bathroom floor now along with my sobriety. By the time you read this I’ll be in a darkened room with a cold compress strapped to my forehead.
Oh and about Rev the other night - brilliant writing - here's what the Observer said:
"The scene in which Mick, the splendidly grubby dreadlocked Jimmy Akingbola (carrying the most foetidly evil one-armed doll) offers to babysit, with the well-intentioned cackle: "You take your lady out for a nice night an' when you comes back, ta-da! She still alive!" mesmerised: and also spoke of poverty, race relations, child abuse and 10 other things which don't get a better outing in an entire hour of the increasing fractious Question Time. Adam/Tom's facial reaction to this charming offer was a brief masterclass in English politesse."
How was your weekend?
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Feel free to pick them up, they're on the bathroom floor now along with my sobriety. By the time you read this I’ll be in a darkened room with a cold compress strapped to my forehead.
Oh and about Rev the other night - brilliant writing - here's what the Observer said:
"The scene in which Mick, the splendidly grubby dreadlocked Jimmy Akingbola (carrying the most foetidly evil one-armed doll) offers to babysit, with the well-intentioned cackle: "You take your lady out for a nice night an' when you comes back, ta-da! She still alive!" mesmerised: and also spoke of poverty, race relations, child abuse and 10 other things which don't get a better outing in an entire hour of the increasing fractious Question Time. Adam/Tom's facial reaction to this charming offer was a brief masterclass in English politesse."
How was your weekend?
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