Hola lovely blog readers, how are you on this fine Tuesday? (Just so you know, Tuesdays are always fine as it is magazine day - new issues of Closer, Heat and Now, SWEEEEET!)
I had a lovely Bank Holiday weekend - did you?
I drank champagne, saw friends and, on Sunday, enjoyed Hull City's stay upableness in the Premier League. I tell you, it was muchos stressful. Even Mr Fat Man (who now winks at me following the previous incident) was jigging about with the tension - still it will probably be good for him.
All of this would have been fine if they still sold Yorkshire Wraps in the stadium concourse... but alas these delicious snacks of roast beef and gravy wrapped in a Yorkshire pudding mix wrap are no more. I should know, I spent 15 minutes at the head of an angry queue of football fans trying in vain to explain to the foreign sales person what they were and that no, I did not want a chicken tikka pie instead.
Anyway, while we lost the match (against Manchester United's youth team....) we did manage to remain in the Premier League thanks to some poor Newcastle United player's own goal. Bless him, I am considering sending him a thank you card.
After the game we went to a special party at the Stadium which was wonderful for two major reasons:
1) It was a free bar with a special wine station - literally a table lined with full wine glasses. And, as many of you know, tell Livy it is free and she will try and consume as much as humanely possible. Thank goodness the important people left within the first hour. All this free wine made me (yes, it forced me) to leave my mobli in the taxi on the way home and then pay for its own taxi journey back to me. At least the mobli got a taste of independence and drunken Hull, ensuring that it will never dare leave me again.
2) A lovely drunk lady told me that I must be honoured to go out with S. I looked puzzled (I mean, he's nice and all but honoured? I think not) and made one of those nondescript noises that means you hope the person will expand (not literally of course although I would LOVE it if there was a specialist noise that you could make that would literally expand the person you were talking to). Anyhoo, she went on to say that he was a hero, so talented and gorgeous and an inspiration to the people of Hull. It was at this point that I realised that she had mistaken him for the Hull City goalie, Boaz Myhill.
The weekend was cemented as one of the best ever when we popped to Maccy D's yesterday afternoon and ordered one cheeseburger and one hamburger and were given instead three cheeseburgers and one hamburger. Oh wonderful goodness. See, it is times like this that I realise that there is a God.
I had a lovely Bank Holiday weekend - did you?
I drank champagne, saw friends and, on Sunday, enjoyed Hull City's stay upableness in the Premier League. I tell you, it was muchos stressful. Even Mr Fat Man (who now winks at me following the previous incident) was jigging about with the tension - still it will probably be good for him.
All of this would have been fine if they still sold Yorkshire Wraps in the stadium concourse... but alas these delicious snacks of roast beef and gravy wrapped in a Yorkshire pudding mix wrap are no more. I should know, I spent 15 minutes at the head of an angry queue of football fans trying in vain to explain to the foreign sales person what they were and that no, I did not want a chicken tikka pie instead.
Anyway, while we lost the match (against Manchester United's youth team....) we did manage to remain in the Premier League thanks to some poor Newcastle United player's own goal. Bless him, I am considering sending him a thank you card.
After the game we went to a special party at the Stadium which was wonderful for two major reasons:
1) It was a free bar with a special wine station - literally a table lined with full wine glasses. And, as many of you know, tell Livy it is free and she will try and consume as much as humanely possible. Thank goodness the important people left within the first hour. All this free wine made me (yes, it forced me) to leave my mobli in the taxi on the way home and then pay for its own taxi journey back to me. At least the mobli got a taste of independence and drunken Hull, ensuring that it will never dare leave me again.
2) A lovely drunk lady told me that I must be honoured to go out with S. I looked puzzled (I mean, he's nice and all but honoured? I think not) and made one of those nondescript noises that means you hope the person will expand (not literally of course although I would LOVE it if there was a specialist noise that you could make that would literally expand the person you were talking to). Anyhoo, she went on to say that he was a hero, so talented and gorgeous and an inspiration to the people of Hull. It was at this point that I realised that she had mistaken him for the Hull City goalie, Boaz Myhill.
The weekend was cemented as one of the best ever when we popped to Maccy D's yesterday afternoon and ordered one cheeseburger and one hamburger and were given instead three cheeseburgers and one hamburger. Oh wonderful goodness. See, it is times like this that I realise that there is a God.
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