John Craven’s celery
OK, OK, so it’s not John Craven’s celery – I was just trying to make it sound more exciting than it was. In actual fact, it was my celery, and it was horrible.
Going for a lovely Saturday lunchy thing in The Retreat in Stroud is always smashing and their side salads, you could describe as interesting. It’s not your usual floppy piece of iceberg and a tomato, oh no, they have exciting lettuce with beans in a lovely dressing. But they have to go and spoil it by putting celery in it. Why?! I just don’t get celery – it’s nasty and should just go away. Whenever celery is involved I have to chase it around and off my plate until I can’t even see the damn stuff anymore. Icky.
The John Craven connection comes in because he was at the Farmer’s Market filming on Saturday (to be shown this Sunday 25th)
Our chosen method of transport that day was the train. But we didn’t really want to pay. Luckily it was the London train and not the shitty little one that pulled into the station. I made Bea talk about Covent Garden to give the appearance that we were going all the way to London, and therefore were bound to have tickets, i.e. not even worth bothering to check. In fact, they didn’t bother to check. We didn’t even see the ticket inspector at all. w00t.
We arrived at the Farmer’s Market to a loud cheer. Now, we don’t normally expect that kind of an entrance so looked around at who they could be cheering at. The only person I could spy was David Drew. “Who?” I heard Bea and now you cry. He’s the MP for Stroud and is a nice man, but not generally cheer-worthy. Forgetting this (I blame the internet for my short attention span), we decided to have some mulled cider, drool at some cakes and generally wander around.
Our path to leave the market was blocked by a cameraman. Oooo. In front of the cameraman was John Craven. Oooo we thought. Newsround. And proceeded to stand behind the camera gawping at him doing his piece. When he finished, we realised we were still staring and he gave us a look. We fought the urge to tell him that he was John Craven, and made a hasty exit for the pub.
Serveral hours later, several beers/ciders later many subjects were debated; such as how much daily use of pantyliners would be, and why the hell are they called pantyliners anyway.
We also came to the conclusion that Cluedo is a very crap game indeed.
-moosh
Bored, bored, bored
Today I am mostly bored.
I took yesterday off sick, because I was ill. No really I was. It wasn’t entirely helped by me trying yet another of my nan’s tablets. A couple of Saturdays ago she had me on codeine and paracetamol – quite a lovely effect…although not so lovely if you actually have to be somewhere or do something.
This time she out did herself. I’m now wondering if she’s trying to turn me into a smack addict or something. You see, she’s been in hospital recently for all manner of things and has been given quite a few tablets, which she squirrels away. And then gives to me. Bless ‘er.
Having a headache from hell on Sunday (not drink related) I decided to give the new tablets a try…when I peeled myself off the ceiling a few hours later and wanted to go to the supermarket, I realised as I danced down the stairs to giggle at my fellow housemate that there was no way I could get behind the wheel of a car. So I did what most respectable citizens of Stroud would do: yammed 2 more and went back to bed.
On a whim, I decided to google these tablets yesterday…and found out that they’re actually highly addictive opiates not that unrelated to morphine and methadone :S
Thanks nan.
-moosh
