I'm a little grumpy but am still in a pinny making yet another blasted pudding.

Yesterday I took to London a steak and mushroom pud and told mum and dad to make sure they boil it forever and not to let the saucepan run dry and that a little gravy seeping from the top like volcanic magma is nothing to fret about.

I always get anxious when trying something new on them mainly because of dad being a bit of brat where food is concerned, if the cake/pie or pudding was horrible mum wouldn't say a word but dad most definitely would, this is what comes from being spoilt for fifty-five years...

So....I'll be in a lathered up panic all afternoon imagining dad's face if, after biting into the succulent pud, it fails to please...

(On a bitchier note I always get indigestion after eating at their house.)

Now this pud I've just finished putting together is another steak affair, only this time, I've made a single 38DD instead of two 36C's.

And so as I wait to get the call from Mr H, to go pick him up I'll ponder tonight's X Factor....What a load of utter drivel this is becoming but....I was sooooo shocked by the utter wickedness of Ms Cole, how she dumped Gamu is beyond me...And what a palaver too surrounding my fav gal, the barking mad Cher, and the Liz Frazer lookylikey, Ms Wassail.
It's a hoot!

While I wait for a phone call I'll also laugh and deride some job application forms.
You want me to do what and for how much and for how long?
I'd rather sell a kidney!

Oh I so much need a new handbag and full on intercourse!