It was rather disconcerting to hear, as I entered our local curry house last night, the head waiter gasping Oh fuck, it's Mr Creosote, but then the past few weeks have been a little hard on the waistline. Somewhere along the line we managed to have our main meal moved back until after our little bundle of joy goes off to sleep, and so this often means the cutlery doesn't start clinking until gone 8pm. So to stave off instant death by starvation I am often to be found grazing from the time I get home, and this constant gannetry is turning me into a globe...
It didn't help that we stayed at my parents' home over the weekend, the butcher is excellent, the Chinese takeaway so welcoming, and the freezer so delightfully full...
But then I haven't actually recovered from The Sonisphere and the wonderful array of food on offer there. All three major food groups, (white bread, red meat, beer), were represented thoroughly, and I took full advantage of the situation to stuff my fat little face every three hours without fail.
Of course none of this will be of any interest, except that nice Mr Capello has been on the phone and offered me my first cap on Friday. I was a little economical with the actualite, but I'm sure he couldn't have misinterpreted my request for my England shirt to be supplied in XXXL?
After all, Mr Capello doesn't do misinterpretation, right?
0 comments:
Post a Comment