1. Cooked double portions of things, thinking it would do for dinner two nights in a row.
2. Left Mr Beet unsupervised with leftover shepherd’s pie.
3. Left Mr Beet unsupervised with leftover apple crumble.
1. Cooked double portions of things, thinking it would do for dinner two nights in a row.
2. Left Mr Beet unsupervised with leftover shepherd’s pie.
3. Left Mr Beet unsupervised with leftover apple crumble.
“Win three cellulite-busting, body-slimming treatments worth £450!!”
That may be what they cost, but it certainly isn’t what they’re worth.
The execrable Daybreak’s first appearance in the section.
Reporting on the New Zealand earthquake; hundreds of people are dead or trapped. Why feature a story about British people who are having to fly home without their luggage? Surely there was enough proper news going on in Christchurch to fill your allotted three minutes before the latest update on Dancing on Ice.
I ran the Brighton half marathon at the weekend, as part of my preparation for the marathon in 7 weeks’ time (7 weeks! *rocks back and forth hugging self*). Here I am looking relatively happy, but I was only one and a half miles in at this stage.
I did steady 10 minute miles nice and easy up to 8 miles. Then it started to get a bit more like hard work. But my trusty Percy Pigs and knowing I had a Milky Way waiting for me at the end kept me going and I finished in 2 hours 12, which is no great shakes but is decent for me. According to the runner’s world race time calculator, this means I should do the marathon in 4 hours 35. I doubt that very much.
Mr Beet and I went to the travel agent to get some quotes for our round the world trip. Still haven’t booked anything though, mainly because we’re now thinking of changing our itinerary to include South America (Chile, Bolivia, Peru) rather than Southern Africa (South Africa, Namibia). Got a decent quote, but I did lose confidence in our travel agent somewhat when she had to use a calculator to add £1,000 to £1,800.
Scarface – OTT, lurid and unapologetic about it. It seems to have been directed by a tag team of a proper skilled director and an over-excited 14 year old boy shouting “Bigger piles of cocaine! Smaller bikinis! More machine guns!”
Given self frostbite from putting ice pack on sore calf.
On the bright side, this is just one stupid thing, which means I am 50% less stupid than last week.
Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
Really entertaining and witty satire on Hardy-esque rural melodramas. A bit of wish fulfilment for anyone who’s ever read a novel and wanted to go in, bang some sense into the characters and generally sort some shit out.
1. Had a phone conversation with an opposing solicitor, five minutes into which I realised I no longer act for that client.
2. Had a wee on a toilet with the lid down.