Friday, 5 November 2010

Pasta Telegram and Other Dreadful Side Effects of Chocolate

Have been 'festing up the house a bit this week in honour of the non-stop combo of sparkliness and fizz that is Diwali and Fireworks. The sparkly corner I showed in the last post is, finally, now bedecked by a string of multi-coloured lights. Damned gorgeous, although I say so myself.

Have been snaffling up bits and pieces to hide away for presents for the Winter Festival aka Christmas. Not usually this sensible, but it seems wrong to give people things that you've bought in a tearing hurry, at the last minute, getting all hot and grumpy in a shopping mall, boiling over to the point of resentment. Have now decided that if I see something that is "right" I will buy it, there and then. Which gives me carte blanche to go into shops A LOT. Which can be dangerous, but so far I have found 5 Very Suitable Things, and today managed to be Very Sensible in TK Maxx - ok, what's a little Charlie'n'Lola calendar here and there? T'was only £3.99, and it's for the house, not me..... and it will make me happy every day throughout next year. Bargain. And I am secretly 47-going-on-4 years of age...

Last night I rediscovered how utterly weird your dreams get when you eat chocolate in the evening. There I was, in the post office, asking for a bowl of pasta, telling them off for putting brussels sprouts on it, and trying to send it to someone in order to sort out what I was doing at the weekend. Bloody Yorkie bars - I swear they've put something in them.

Am thinking that the post-Halloween versions of Strictly are going to be a bit, well, just not vampy enough. I really think Matt the macho farmer should adopt the guyliner fulltime, and not just for showbiz. He just looked a bit too well-scrubbed without it on Claudia the other night. Come on BBC makeup ladies - the nation needs YOU. But it does not need Alice Cooper to be hidden away, obscured by cavorting Professional Dancers. What is the point of that???

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