'Two shags'

is what John Prescott has been re-christened following the revelation of his two-year affair. This was one of two things that made me laugh out loud this week. The other was a Chinese takeaway menu that landed on the carpet beneath my letterbox on Saturday morning. Alongside the always amusing photographs of extravagantly yet unappetisingly displayed food (when was the last time your chow mein arrived in half a pineapple? And would you ever want it to?) were the words 'Alcoholic Takeaway' - brilliant. "I'll have one jakey in stained clothes and two neds 'oot their heids' on buckie please."

Following on from Jeff & Dev's Sunday lunch, Keith & Ashley hosted us last Sabbath day. Dinner was delicious and dessert was the most amazing banoffee pie I've ever tasted. My enthusiatic critique caught Keith's attention and he spent the duration of dessert apologising for his inappropriate comment. It really was good pie though.

Another heavenly pudding was sampled on Thursday night at
Black Bo's with Leanne. It was chocolate and chilli brownie with vanilla and hazelnut ice cream. Oh, it was class. Catching up with Leanne is always good. Whereas I give advice by way of endless analogy, Leanne can put things immediately in perspective with one sentence; and it's never a patronising one either. I don't know why, but I'm always surprised when my friends say something that makes clear just how well they really know me. It was like this with Leanne on Thursday when she said: "I don't think you'll get any answers from it. In fact, I think it'll do you more harm than good. But I know you're still going to do it anyway." Bang on the money.

I had a half day at work on Friday and took myself off to the gym at 1pm. I feel compelled to go every day since the instructor assessed my body fat situation and looked like she was amazed I'd managed to squeeze out the door of my flat. Needless to say, I could hardly move for the first four hours on Saturday morning (this was made worse by another visit to the gym). Mog and I had lunch in the sunshine followed by a big ice cream and a little walk.

At 7pm we caught the train through to Glasgow to celebrate Katie's birthday. It was a most ambient affair with generous helpings of curry and an excellent crowd. Around Midnight, we headed, quite literally, round the corner to a club. We walked straight in - sans entrance fee - and proceeded to have a cracking time. A night in da club wouldn't be the same for Katie and I without at least one dance-off. This time the tune was 'Don't cha' by the Pussycat Dolls and my demure wrist-flick sent someone's bottle of beer raining across the dance floor. Bonus points.

We headed home around 3am and Mog and I headed straight to bed. I was truly knackered and my muscles were truly aching by this point. The rest of the party stayed up chatting until 6 or so which meant Mog and I were annoyingly bushy-tailed the next morning. A truly scrumptious brunch of French Toast, bacon and Maple syrup was scoffed before Mog and I caught the train home.

Good times.

And pigs might fly

Ok, I'm totally tempting fate here, but having told everyone at Dev & Jeff's Easter lunch I figure I've already rowed all the way out on 'asking for it lake'. So here goes:

I've bought a flat - again, but will say no more about it until I have the keys in my hands. Although, rather sadly, I have already done two practice runs from the new flat to my place of work to establish timings. It takes 26 minutes (at 'this is as close as I get to running' pace), 33 minutes (at 'don't dare think you're worthy enough to speak to me' pace) and 41 minutes (at 'Flexi time means I don't need to be in until 10:30. Oh look, aren't the daffodils lovely? pace). I'm like one of those irritating couples who plan the drive to hospital when they're expecting a child. God, I hate myself.

Speaking of God, Dev cooked a pig in his honour last Sunday. It was undoubtedly the holiest ham ever to travel the well worn road that is my geographer's tongue. The pig of God (as it was christened on The Roquefort Files) had been cooked in Coke, and was so delicious that while I may never be fooled into buying the usual pig in a poke, there'd be no hesitation in buying a pig in Coke - even if said pig in coke was actually in a poke at the time.

Anyway, Dev's dinner was a triumph and the disciples dining that day were on top form, which made for plenty of hilarity.