Scalloped edge

A low point has been reached. At today’s client lunch, when asked ‘Would madam like a side order?’, madam replied with the soul-crushing, never before spoken words, ‘Mixed leaf salad, please’. Oh god, that things should come to this….

In fact, they’d already reached a pretty pass on Saturday when we went down to Kent for lunch with A’s mum. There on the menu, leering at me, teasing me, seducing me was not one, not two but three of my favourite puds: sticky toffee, spotted dick and Eton Mess. I contented myself with just scallops. Again. I had them for lunch on Thursday and funnily enough again for lunch today. In fact, now I think about it, I am bloody sick of scallops and want a Big Mac.

Moving on....Is it only idiots that keep making the same mistake? Or maybe gluttons for punishment? We know what happens when we call into the greyhound rescue kennels ‘just to have a look’. We know, we’ve been there, got the T-shirt, got the stupid dog with his tongue hanging out in the basket, farting for England. And so why, oh why, did I say on Saturday morning, ‘Oh, as we’re going to see your mum, let’s call into Croftview on the way and have a look at the inmates.’ Big mistake…possibly. Watch this space.

P.S. We're off up to the boat on Friday and the first thing I'll be doing is dusting off my thermal underwear. I could do without the Arctic winds whistling up my jumper next week and there's only going to be a Cup o Soup between me and incipient hypothermia. I'll have to ensure the galley slave keeps a continuous supply of hot drinks coming my way, although the effort of keeping warm does burn off the calories, I believe. See, every cloud....