Danish pastries for breakfast: my current (or rather, currant, hoho) vice. This must be why, despite having eaten no chocolate for a fortnight, I still have not regained anything resembling a waist. I also went on one of those Boots weighing machines which tell you your ideal weight, with incredibly depressing results. HOWEVER, my sister told me that they give a lower 'ideal' weight so you will immediately rush across the aisle to their slimming products in a Bridget Jones style panic. I'm not sure if I'm cynical enough to believe this or not.The Christmas bazaar on Saturday was a bit of a disaster in the end, being just as crowded as the shopping centre but with small children in ponchos and vague women in big swishy skirts rather than Burberry-clad teenagers. Also Matt was nearly poisoned by some vegan chocolate cake, and I failed to make conversation with old classmates who have extravagantly sprogged and become serene earth mothers while I've been frittering my time/money away on higher education and beer.
Sunday was better. We went to a local farmer's market and sampled cheese, pheasant, ginger wine, and more cheese. Bought jam and wine and, yes, cheese and felt very virtuous for supporting cottage industries etc. Did you know that Brussel sprouts grow on a big STALK? I didn't. They look like some exotic life form encountered in Star Trek:
True Love and High Adventure
