Urgh, I was enjoying my morning-sunny again! A minor miracle- when I saw this. I mean look at it-doesn't this just foster the very essence of jealously in you? OI! Wench! Get your overly tan paws off my Carrotlove muffin!!
He's only smiling like that to be polite, I can tell. I can read his expression like a book. In FACT I don't need to read his expression I can hear him, oh yes, he communicates with me, through electrical appliances and carpet. That static and electric shock I keep getting off things is ACTUALLY his way of reminding me to keep the ginger faith, and keep it I will, right up until I find some way to get closer to him. Then I can show him my montage of photos which I've digitally altered to make it seem like I'm in every one. Ha ha! He'll be so impressed he'll PROBABLY ask me to marry him then and there.
Failing a marriage proposal from the he-man of gingericus, today ought to be a doozy anyway. My spanish friend has graced the earth with one more year of her glorious self which means we are to celebrate. A girl after my own heart, this means we're starting at 12. That's right mid day. Not for her the woossy timid sensible 'let's meet in the evening' nonsense. Nope, it's meet at mid-day, have an aperitif and straight on to seafood and wine. Huzzah I say, seafood! Wine! Aperitifs!
( I say huzzah in a midly wildy terrified sort of way, I don't know if any of you have ever read any of the James Herriot Books, but if you have then I can only say I approach this lunch FILLED with good intentions of staying RELATIVELY sober, but The Spaniard, like Granville Bennett, has a way of turning me into a weaving bumbling idiot, whose only ambition is to stay upright and pronounce the name of my street loudly and correctly to the taxi driver before getting home and going straight to bed. Indeed the last time I was out with her I was so acutely aware of staying upright I WAS sober coming home, having fled her company in a panic as soon as I saw her fix her hair two-handed- (( a sign that she's getting tipsy)) I actually ran away)
Anyway If I don't fall unconscious or suddenly decide there's not enough rum in my seafood, I'll be doing well. If you don't hear anything from me later in the day I've either married a ginger or I'm drunk as the proverbial skunk, one of those.
Conan! If this place is as good as people tell me I'll email you the address-er, tomorrow.
Happy Gingerday everyone, beer-o'clock falls earlier for some. Want my advise? Leave work early.
Labels: Pints o' bitter with crab?