I must start today's blog with The Apprentice. As some of you might have gathered I was less than impressed with last week's effort but last night's episode was back on form and then some. The task was to make and sell upmarket 'street' food but to stand out from the usual burger bars. The key words were 'quality' and 'cost', words that were immediately sidelined by one team and over embraced by the other. After the usual debate of what they were going to sell both teams then went on the hunt for ingredients. Team Sterling decided on a gourmet 'scot pot' an interesting fusion brought about by the team leader being from Lancaster and the selling pitch being in Edinburgh. This team spent a whopping £290 on their ingredients and made a casserole to die for, it certainly looked good and by all accounts smelt and tasted divine.
Team Phoenix employed the services of a famous Italian chef to devise a simple pasta and meatball dish. As the chef looked on with a mixture of exasperation and dismay the team leader ditched all his fresh, prime cut ingredients and started to substitute with the cheapest stuff he could find. The one thing Phoenix did not stint on though was the price and after altering the recipe beyond recognition decided to charge £5.99 per portion, even higher than Sterling were charging for their top quality meals. Having spent just £90 on ingredients Adam was smugly confident he had the winning formula to make a small fortune. His smile became even wider when Katie (The Blonde Assassin) came up with the brilliant idea of pitching next to the football ground just before or after a match. I don't like football, have never attended a game but knew that they were on to a loser. Football fans are more into simple fare they can eat on the terraces with the minimum of fuss and were unlikely to pay the high price demanded. As it turned out I was right and they sold barely a dozen portions. Katie then had the idea of hijacking bus tours dressed as a pizza which unsurprisingly also failed to bring in any customers. Yes I know, I can't work out why she dressed as a pizza to sell meatballs either.
Meanwhile Sterling, while not racing ahead, had a steady stream of customers which increased significantly when they began to drop their prices as end of trading approached. Back in the boardroom Adam remained smug convinced he'd won, the look on his face when Sterling, despite spending almost three times as much, won by just £21 was well worth seeing. Adam, obviously in shock but not out of bluster placed the blame squarely on Katie's shoulders, Lord Sugar agreed and Katie was sent home in back of a black cab. So yet another of my hate figures out of the picture, I'm doing well this year. I have now transfered to Adam, who is emerging as a prime idiot.
Went shopping yesterday and having free reign to eat lots of unhealthy fatty stuff I indulged myself with lots of sweeties, crisps and snacks. I also bough loads of fruit. I am going through the fruit like there is no tomorrow while the unhealthy stuff remains in the cupboard untouched. I am fine with the odd chocolate treat but just cannot bring myself to eat tons of the stuff. My problem is that I prefer fruit to sweets and veg to chips, I just can't help it. I also love cheese so I am letting myself have free range with that, which is a start I suppose.
I also picked up my new glasses, which are a bit, well, different. I've always gone for the John Lennon type before but decided on a change and have chosen a rectangle shape with a thicker, plastic frame. Having got used to them I must say I'm rather pleased. Although there is not much change in my regular prescription, the only reason I'm updating is because the lenses are all scratched, but the reading glasses are a bonus. I didn't realise how much I was beginning to struggle until I read in bed last night, what a difference.
Today is my lazy day, well if you discount the pile of ironing lined up for this afternoon. I'm trying to keep myself busy while I wait for the phone call that will tell me if I'm still OK for transplant. Despite the anxiety I slept well last night but today I am a bundle of nerves. I can see no reason for them to say no based on the test results I've been told about but I'm not a doctor. I hate this feeling that someone, who doesn't really know me, is sitting in a room miles away discussing whether I should be given the chance to live. It is horrendous knowing that I can't even plead my own case, everything has to be judged through test results. I know it is the same for everyone, which is fair but just because it is the right thing to do doesn't mean I have to like it.
As fate would have it I'm off to the Brompton tomorrow for my regular clinic appointment. Let's hope I have something positive to tell them.
Team Phoenix employed the services of a famous Italian chef to devise a simple pasta and meatball dish. As the chef looked on with a mixture of exasperation and dismay the team leader ditched all his fresh, prime cut ingredients and started to substitute with the cheapest stuff he could find. The one thing Phoenix did not stint on though was the price and after altering the recipe beyond recognition decided to charge £5.99 per portion, even higher than Sterling were charging for their top quality meals. Having spent just £90 on ingredients Adam was smugly confident he had the winning formula to make a small fortune. His smile became even wider when Katie (The Blonde Assassin) came up with the brilliant idea of pitching next to the football ground just before or after a match. I don't like football, have never attended a game but knew that they were on to a loser. Football fans are more into simple fare they can eat on the terraces with the minimum of fuss and were unlikely to pay the high price demanded. As it turned out I was right and they sold barely a dozen portions. Katie then had the idea of hijacking bus tours dressed as a pizza which unsurprisingly also failed to bring in any customers. Yes I know, I can't work out why she dressed as a pizza to sell meatballs either.
Meanwhile Sterling, while not racing ahead, had a steady stream of customers which increased significantly when they began to drop their prices as end of trading approached. Back in the boardroom Adam remained smug convinced he'd won, the look on his face when Sterling, despite spending almost three times as much, won by just £21 was well worth seeing. Adam, obviously in shock but not out of bluster placed the blame squarely on Katie's shoulders, Lord Sugar agreed and Katie was sent home in back of a black cab. So yet another of my hate figures out of the picture, I'm doing well this year. I have now transfered to Adam, who is emerging as a prime idiot.
Went shopping yesterday and having free reign to eat lots of unhealthy fatty stuff I indulged myself with lots of sweeties, crisps and snacks. I also bough loads of fruit. I am going through the fruit like there is no tomorrow while the unhealthy stuff remains in the cupboard untouched. I am fine with the odd chocolate treat but just cannot bring myself to eat tons of the stuff. My problem is that I prefer fruit to sweets and veg to chips, I just can't help it. I also love cheese so I am letting myself have free range with that, which is a start I suppose.
I also picked up my new glasses, which are a bit, well, different. I've always gone for the John Lennon type before but decided on a change and have chosen a rectangle shape with a thicker, plastic frame. Having got used to them I must say I'm rather pleased. Although there is not much change in my regular prescription, the only reason I'm updating is because the lenses are all scratched, but the reading glasses are a bonus. I didn't realise how much I was beginning to struggle until I read in bed last night, what a difference.
Today is my lazy day, well if you discount the pile of ironing lined up for this afternoon. I'm trying to keep myself busy while I wait for the phone call that will tell me if I'm still OK for transplant. Despite the anxiety I slept well last night but today I am a bundle of nerves. I can see no reason for them to say no based on the test results I've been told about but I'm not a doctor. I hate this feeling that someone, who doesn't really know me, is sitting in a room miles away discussing whether I should be given the chance to live. It is horrendous knowing that I can't even plead my own case, everything has to be judged through test results. I know it is the same for everyone, which is fair but just because it is the right thing to do doesn't mean I have to like it.
As fate would have it I'm off to the Brompton tomorrow for my regular clinic appointment. Let's hope I have something positive to tell them.
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