Saturday
It was a beautiful day today, not too warm, not too cold so we went to the market town of Hitchen.We visited several charity shops on our quest for books and then popped into the old fashioned sweet shop where I bought some kola kubes, strawberry sherberts and apple bon bons. The tastes took me right back to by childhood when every Saturday, after getting my pocket money, I'd struggle with the choice at my local sweet shop. In those days I could only afford one quarter of something and a bar of chocolate. Managed it all on my own two feet but had to have a nap on getting home.
Everyone has been a bit gloomy following Wales being cheated out of the finals of the Rugby World Cup. Still some comfort my be taken in the fact that it is years since they even made the semi finals. There is always next time and of course a chance to get our own back come the Six Nations next February.
Watched Strictly Come Dancing in the evening. I get totally immersed in that show and can almost feel what it must be like to dance the numbers myself. I'm mad, totally mad.
We were all home and so film night was the order of the day and this time it was Dick Tracy with Warren Beatty and Madonna. A strange film it has to be said, Peter's choice again. My choice Sunday and as yet no ideas, typical.
Sunday
I did it, I cooked and ate another full meal. This time sausages, peas, mash and gravy. No hint of sickness so things are definitely looking up.
After a busy morning getting the sheets washed and dried I decided to catch up on the X Factor this afternoon, never again. Are the judges deaf? Act after act was either out of tune or out of time and yet praise was liberally heaped while the audience whooped and screamed like monkeys in the background. Now all this screaming is a double edged sword. It drowns out what the judges have to say but prolongs the agony for those of us just interested in hearing the singing. Then there are the so called 'stylists'. Where do they get these people? Most of the contestants looked like they'd been styled by a trained ape with no colour vision. And is it me or did the woman in purple look like she'd just stepped out of Blake's seven? If I ever watch the program again I will record it first. I reckon if I fast forward through all the ad breaks, how many does one program need for heavens sake? Whizz through the sob stories and the unintelligible judges comments I could compact a two hour program into twenty minutes. And twenty minutes of my life is really all it is worth.
Andrew surprised me by cleaning the bathroom and shower and he did an excellent job. He is not planning on trying to cook a souffle. He's been watching Celebrity Masterchef again and thinks souffles look nice and easy. Thankfully we did not have the right ingredients in the house but I have a feeling he is not going to let this one drop and it will be souffle for tea one night this week.
Laurence is working over this weekend but has booked off a week for his house move and has asked I do the same to help. I am happy too but I don't know what use I'll be. I can't lift, can't carry but can organise. I must start writing out the recipes he's asked for. He wants all my pasta dishes shrunk down for one or two people as he says he doesn't want to live on ready meals and take aways. I admire his intention but can I really see him coming home after a twelve hour shift and then rattling pots and pans in the kitchen? No is the short answer but we will see.
I'm feeling tired now and have developed a backache, don't know what I did to get that, just when part of you works properly something else shoots you down in flames.
It was a beautiful day today, not too warm, not too cold so we went to the market town of Hitchen.We visited several charity shops on our quest for books and then popped into the old fashioned sweet shop where I bought some kola kubes, strawberry sherberts and apple bon bons. The tastes took me right back to by childhood when every Saturday, after getting my pocket money, I'd struggle with the choice at my local sweet shop. In those days I could only afford one quarter of something and a bar of chocolate. Managed it all on my own two feet but had to have a nap on getting home.
Everyone has been a bit gloomy following Wales being cheated out of the finals of the Rugby World Cup. Still some comfort my be taken in the fact that it is years since they even made the semi finals. There is always next time and of course a chance to get our own back come the Six Nations next February.
Watched Strictly Come Dancing in the evening. I get totally immersed in that show and can almost feel what it must be like to dance the numbers myself. I'm mad, totally mad.
We were all home and so film night was the order of the day and this time it was Dick Tracy with Warren Beatty and Madonna. A strange film it has to be said, Peter's choice again. My choice Sunday and as yet no ideas, typical.
Sunday
I did it, I cooked and ate another full meal. This time sausages, peas, mash and gravy. No hint of sickness so things are definitely looking up.
After a busy morning getting the sheets washed and dried I decided to catch up on the X Factor this afternoon, never again. Are the judges deaf? Act after act was either out of tune or out of time and yet praise was liberally heaped while the audience whooped and screamed like monkeys in the background. Now all this screaming is a double edged sword. It drowns out what the judges have to say but prolongs the agony for those of us just interested in hearing the singing. Then there are the so called 'stylists'. Where do they get these people? Most of the contestants looked like they'd been styled by a trained ape with no colour vision. And is it me or did the woman in purple look like she'd just stepped out of Blake's seven? If I ever watch the program again I will record it first. I reckon if I fast forward through all the ad breaks, how many does one program need for heavens sake? Whizz through the sob stories and the unintelligible judges comments I could compact a two hour program into twenty minutes. And twenty minutes of my life is really all it is worth.
Andrew surprised me by cleaning the bathroom and shower and he did an excellent job. He is not planning on trying to cook a souffle. He's been watching Celebrity Masterchef again and thinks souffles look nice and easy. Thankfully we did not have the right ingredients in the house but I have a feeling he is not going to let this one drop and it will be souffle for tea one night this week.
Laurence is working over this weekend but has booked off a week for his house move and has asked I do the same to help. I am happy too but I don't know what use I'll be. I can't lift, can't carry but can organise. I must start writing out the recipes he's asked for. He wants all my pasta dishes shrunk down for one or two people as he says he doesn't want to live on ready meals and take aways. I admire his intention but can I really see him coming home after a twelve hour shift and then rattling pots and pans in the kitchen? No is the short answer but we will see.
I'm feeling tired now and have developed a backache, don't know what I did to get that, just when part of you works properly something else shoots you down in flames.
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