And me without a crown...

I felt thoroughly regal as the Tiffin was scraped out of the tin. "By jolly jingo" I said to Monty "This looks a treat and no mistake".

The fruity bikky nutty mixture had firmed up something wonderful and being a generous sort I smothered it with melted chocolate. Scrummy!

Taste? Dunno haven't tried it!

But try it I will.
Probably after Sausages in Cider, tonight's fail proof supper.

It's wonderful you know when one discovers a gem. And it's made even more wonderful when the gem is dug out of my dishevelled kitchen. The webs may hang, the ceiling may peel but put a selection of ingredients in my mitts and I'm in mucky heaven.

But that's enough about me.
What about YOU?
What rockets YOU to heaven?

Food, drink, good day in the work arena, friends falling over, celebrations, the weekend, great emails. What?
Tell me everything....

Another Quite Big Occasion...

Do I need to say what that occasion is?
Of course not.
Not only am I gearing myself up for my last birthday photo shoot I'm getting in a stinker of a tizz.
Why's that I hear you mumble?
Why? Are you mental?

Football doesn't get any steamier or heart-wrenching than Her Majesty's England team pitching into her cousins the Germans.
So why do I have a wry glimmer of a smile...?
Because although the Germans and us have a 'history' I can't help having a smidgen of connection with the sausage suckers. And you know how much Glo adores a good sausage.
But hearts to one side I'm hoping Fabio's band will flagellate the Saxon hides.


Lovely day today weatherwise.
So after doing lunch and baking a cake I will don my proud polyester armour and walk, with my lads, once more onto the field of honour.

I ride towards the sound of the vuvuzelas>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I Am The Best. Except When In Sainsbury's...

I dazzled around Sainsbury's quite early this morning on account of wanting to get back early!
And everything was going swimmingly well, managed to keep to my list, gave the nod to Bob on veg, and did a jig when I clapped eyes on some BOGOF sausages, they weren't on my list but that was the only diversion, I swear.. Oh no there was something else, a packet of fig rolls. Anyway I handed over my money to a startled Barb on the till. "You do look glamorous today"she said her infectious smile making me break out also.
"Thanks sweetie" I said carefully watching the eggs.
"Glitter does the trick for me, especially on a Wednesday".
She laughed then took all my notes. Bitch.

So I was feeling rather pleased what with my bogoff sausages, plump sultanas and frozen chicken, and I had money left over...:)

This is great I thought as I tackled a pensioner with more sausages than me, I've done well today, even have enough money for the Daily Mirror (Glossy World Cup Pull-Out) So I made my way to the paper counter...WRONG! So wrong. Shouldn't have thought about buying the Mirror because next to the papers were....DVD's. Ooops!

I love films as you know, so I thought what harm is there in just flicking through a few?
The harm idiot face, is that you'll spend money you don't have. Well I do have it but it should go to more worthy causes like petrol and lipstick NOT on films.
I looked anyway...
He, he, he, he, he.
I held it, knowing it was going home with me, and at just £4 I could afford it AND a paper.

So this afternoon, after I've sewn some lettuces, made a few Rock Cakes, and shaved my legs I shall, with the aforementioned smooth legs up on the pouffe, eat a sausage sandwich watching...

THE DAMNED UNITED!

A film about football:)
A film about the man who should have been England manager...:)
A film about a big head:)
Brian Clough:)


Here we go, here we go, here we gooooooo!


P.S. Last time I looked I think I was a girl


Ta Ta!

Heaven

*Marshmallows. Biting one in half, then sticking the ends on the ends of my pinkies and playing puppets.

*Cabbage. All kinds but preferably white with pork belly. Red tends to stain pig flesh. Nasty.

*Uniforms. But not the postman's. Or the bin men. Prefer men of violence.

*Male Hairy arms and gorilla legs. What is it with me and hair? By the way I'm getting mine seen to next week That's my head hair not my leg hair. (I do sometimes sport Gorilla legs but that tends to be when I'm sulking.)


*Haldiram's Khatta Meetha. Whilst surfing the intertubes late at night. Exotic, sweet and full of chemicals but such a spiffing chum in your nightie.

*Ginger Wine. In a pint glass. I don't frink.

*Old people. With a full deck and funky hair. Saw a sharp old girl on the telly with razored red hair. Loved it.

*Roomy knickers. But only on days when I'm spitting feathers. Happy days calls for little 'uns.

*Cold sausages. Eaten quickly standing up. Because there's something very sensuous about holding onto a banger when really you should be engrossed in honourable works like polishing.

*Balaclavas. On bushy chested men men clutching a bag of marshmallows whilst also gripping a bottle of Ginger wine and large white cabbage.
Now That's Heaven...

Now This Bike Thing...

Hello all.


It's not a bad little runner considering it's thirty years old. It has a jaunty plastic bag at the back a tingling screeching bell on the front and lots of creamy coloured lights. I like it. And today as I cycled to Henry's I felt as free as a lost pigeon.
I have to get a padlock or something because otherwise someone might steal it, and the thought of some stinking tea leaf lifting my little cycle gets me in a flap. No, I simply have to spend a fiver on security.

Other mundaness:

My left knee is ghastly again. Come up all knobbly it has and I think it's due to excessive exertion both in the street and in the kitchen. Therefore I've pumped myself full of hard line prescription drugs in the hope of seeing a joint reduction.

Today at Henry's was quite dull. I'm so sick of picking up fag-ends, Chinese take away cartons, crashed out bottles of vino, socks, medical things, bow ties and dead flies. As I wafted Lavender air freshener around I stuck my head out the upstairs window and wished so hard that I was somewhere else.


I've decided to lose myself in a sausage.

If I could be anywhere today I'd be in Washington.
I'm imagining my little English body jumping in the air straining to get a glimpse of President Obama. I'd woooo! and cheer! and cry! with the rest of them, I'd probably faint too. But what a time and place to faint! At the Inauguration of a President. Much more classier than dropping to your knees by the frozen veg in Sainsburys.
But I'm not in Washington I'm here in windy Blighty so I'll have to watch it on the telly and that's alright with me, mate.

Before I sign off I must tell you about last night's sausage.
It was a dinner fit for a pauper, a King and indeed a President. The sausages were smashing likewise the Yorkshire pudding in fact I think it was the one of the best dinners I've ever cooked. Yet it was so simple. And that makes it even better.
On the menu tonight I lean towards the dark side with Devilled Chicken!

So now I have to do what English women do. Potter about.

Do Not Eat

I've been perusing me cupboards and here is a list of what I do not have and why.

Tinned Rice Pudding:
It is anathema to me on account of it being too white and not containing bits of lemon peel.
Tinned Soup:
Because it is not soup as I know it. My soup needs a fork because sometimes it has a bits of cabbage in it. The thought of being tied down and having a spoonful of Heinz Tomato Soup dripped onto my lips keeps me awake at night.
Cook-In Sauces:
I bought one in 1985 and fainted when I opened the tin. I swore never again.
Canned Meat:
Because it reminds me of the War. Corned Beef is ok if one closes one's eyes and thinks of England. But canned Ham is unforgivable and full of water.
Instant Custard:
The country's supply of it should be chucked into a landfill site or poured over giggling women in baths who are doing it for charity and to get their picture in the paper. Do not use this product.
Tubed Garlic:
I must chop and mash my garlic otherwise I can't sing in Italian. I eat bucketloads of real garlic. I do not have any friends.
Cake Mixes:
If I see someone in Sainsbury's even LOOKING at these appalling things I tell the manager to evict them from the store. To make a cake is the best thing on earth. I don't trust people who buy Swiss Rolls.

And perhaps the foodstuff that makes me go most mental is

Cheap Sausages:
Pale insipid pinky winkies without any balls. When I see a bad sausage in Sainsbury's I spin round shouting obscenities, I cry out for the in-store butcher to be relocated and I weep for the wretched animal that had to be put to sleep just so people with no class or money can have a fry-up.
A real Woman's sausage is so powerful you have to kill it to eat it. A real sausage lives on your plate, it breathes and looks at you with contempt, it dares you to eat it.
I kill dozens of the blighters every month. And they love me for it. I float them in cider, I prop them up and against some mash, I slice them into a risotto and I squeeze them into a finger roll. And at all times the sausage in question is the best I can afford.
So on your knees you Cumberland Ring you, try and get the better of me you string of Toulouse, get me in a lather if you dare, you pound of big fat Venison bangers.
And melt me with your long lusciousness you violent Frankfurter.

I will at some time post a piece about what goes on in my kitchen.
And it's not all culinary.
Thank You.