Browsing some food blogs this morning I feel, um I can only describe it as, seethingly jealous. Why? These bloggers seem to be irritatingly rich, able to dine at fine restaurants every week.
One of the main reasons I want a boyfriend/husband/partner/solvent shag is so that they can take me to good restaurants. I can’t afford them myself, being a basically broke single mum.
Like buying sexy underwear it would practically be a present to themselves, taking me to good restaurants, because I would go straight home and try to recreate what we had eaten.
Mind you I’ve gone up about 3 sizes during Christmas, to the point that my tights will no longer stay up, rolling inexorably downwards over my bulging tummy throughout the day ending up somewhere around my crotch. So, if you don’t mind me yanking my tights up throughout the meal, I’m game.
Otherwise let’s face it, I’m never going to be able to eat at El Bulli, The Fat Duck, Claridges, Nobu and the rest. A deprived palate…maybe I should start a tonguesinneed appeal.