Grown-up tea

My brother is visiting, I know that eternially he will be my 'little brother' but he is almost as tall as me now and in the evenings we drink beer together. I suppose that is the nature of things, in my head he will always be about 7 and want to play with lego.

This hasn't actually changed really. I still think if I had some lego we would definitely be playing with it. As we don't we are up playing computer games and having a breakfast composed almost entirely of chocolate.

I am using the teapot though, which always makes me feel grown up so it balance it's probably quite a mature meal.

Running like Rocky

I went for a run this morning before breakfast, which is something I thought people only did in films. I dragged my little brother along too and it wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. We ran around one of the fields, so once that becomes far too easy we will start running around the wood, and then the larger field and so on.

So now the rest of the day can be spent feeling virtuous and glowing with good health no matter what I do. The sort of good health that lets a chap really enjoy Second Breakfast. For those who don't enjoy the West Country lifestyle here is the meal plan for a normal day.

Breakfast - Hearty, savoury food.

Second Breakfast AKA 'Crib' - Pointless food, anything that you don't need to survive so chocolates and cakes.

Brunch - Something savoury to keep you going until lunch time

Lunch - Again a large meal, typically featuring fresh bread.

Two o'clock Treat - Chocolate again, possibly a cake or two.

Afternoon Tea - Surprisingly large selection of food served with tea. Mixture of savoury and sweet.

Supper - Informal meal including a pudding.

Then for the extra hungry a midnight snack is allowed based around toast and cheese.

It's a good job I'm doing so much shovelling and running.

Goodie bags

I had to give the ol' room a bit of a clean as it wasn't really suitable for visiting, not that any visitors are planned but I think that a clean room is much more relaxing. Plus it's sort of a traditional signifier of a new start in life.

Of course I have far too much stuff and thus tidy is more of a state of mind rather then an absolute concept. I put on some nice music and set about stuffing freshly laundered shirts into my wardrobe. It has a light in it, which always makes me smile when I turn it on. It doesn't matter that most of my shirts are slightly crumpled and squished when they are dramatically lit.

Wardrobes can be telling places, I went back to the flat of a 'new friend' for a coffee a few weeks ago and things were terribly civilised until she showed me the contents of her wardrobe. Things got out of control just after she brought out the vintage dresses. I'm not sure what that says about either of us apart from the fact we should stay away from Chanel in polite company.

Anyway, while I was tucking away various velvet and tweed numbers I also realised that I had made a line of goodie bags. Returning home from a drunken night out I triumphantly throw the bag down and collapse on my bed. This has happened more than a few times in the last few weeks and now a very pleasantl looking row of little paper bags full of exciting things has built up.

They are bulging of minature bottles of booze, glasses, make-up, leather wallets, vouchers for things I shall never do and other promotional items. If you open them they can be a bit disappointing as you often realise that they are mostly fluff with very little gift but undistirbed they are rather pretty. The spoils of a strange war, trophies of the party circuit lined up against a wall.

This also means another nice tradition can return. Now that I'm out and about again and I'm building up the bags of little pleasant things, everyone who visits will get a goodie bag. I'm returning to the days when everyone who pops by for a cup of tea or restoring glass of gin will get a little gift to go away with. Some pleasant little amusement just because.

This tradition started because I used to work in a female world, so many of the gifts pressed into my palm as I stumbled into a cab at the end of the evening were not really for chaps. I had a surplus of fripperies and make-up that needed a good home. A good home that could always be provided by my chums.

Anyway it's back, in force so who wants to come over for tea?

Cocktails and healthy living

The single life is one of parties and cocktails. My day is neatly cut in two by supper. During the day I beaver away on various writing projects and in the evening I change into a fresh shirt and waistcoat (or possibly an entirely new outfit) and scamper off to some sort of meeting somewhere.

By meeting I mean my traditional form of event where I get terribly drunk with someone I fancy. Business related things happen, but in a rather relaxed way that involves a lot of cocktails.

Speaking of cocktails I had some very good passion fruit daiquiris last night which were fruity and potent so it was like drinking an alcoholic salad. I'm sure they count towards my five a day.

On the way home from the pub I took advantage of a twenty four hour shop to do some shopping. I must have been rather trashed at this point because I only brought things with Tea in the title (Tea, Tea cakes, Yorkshire tea cake, some Tea soap thing) or that were egg shaped. I can't remember the exact logic behind this but I followed it completely so I awoke surrounded by a cornicopia of egg shaped foods and tea related products.

I must say that while drunk Louche is a nice chap has some extremely questionable taste, but then if you had met most of my ex-girlfriends you would know that.

Man of the month

It's been a while since I've done a man of the month, so here is a new one.

Alber Elbaz the artistic director of French fashion house Lanvin. He gets this award for his bow tie and pleasantly eccentric appearance.

Wouldn't you just love to have him over for tea?

A biscuit day

I've been thinking about food a lot recently, especially raw food. Food you can pick of the vine and stuff into your mouth. Food that is so tasty you can't just go 'hmm' you have to sing about how lovely it is while doing a little 'this is tasty' dance.

This might just be because I'm drinking less, or just living a healthier lifestyle. Or perhaps I spend so much of my day frowning at a laptop or pacing around trying to squeeze thoughts out that even the slightest distraction becomes terribly exciting.

I think It's Australia day tomorrow and there is some sort of bash going on. I wonder what I'll make of the cocktails after this mostly puritan lifestyle. I'm hoping that even the most megre Sea Breeze will be exiting now.

In other news my poor flatmate has just been told today by a chap (the chap she has been having an on-off thing with for the last ten years) that he never loved her. This was done in a way that implied that he was entirely blameless for messing her around for the last few years and if anyone was to blame it was her. Honestly people can be such shits sometimes.

She was of course rather upset by this but after sorting out some other aspects of her life and a decent cup of tea she seems to be okay. It really should have been a cup of tea and a biscuit but we don't have any in the house. We probably should, for emergences like this where a person just really needs a biscuit. After all you never know when you are going to have a biscuit day.

Must we?

I'm rapidly becoming of the opinion that 2008 is a fine, fine year. One a chap can't help to warm to. We shall not speak of the previous year, but this one is definitely a keeper.

My current tactic, or perhaps plan is more apt is to think of something excellent that has happened every day. It sounds a bit like something Pollyanna would do but I think one shouldn't think less of it for that. If you expect something excellent to happen every day, it's surprising how often it does. Even if it is just arriving at the bus stop on time or getting the last crumpet in the tea shop.

You wouldn't believe how strong the urge to break into song just then was. It's a good job I wasn't standing near an orchestra, and that my guitar is tucked away under my bed. Otherwise I would have sprung into technicolour and it would have all been over.

You sir, wouldn't dare eat that chili!

The third post from the weekend has been deleted with out seeing the light of day. It is for the best, it was about something sad that I can't really deal with right now and thus in true British fashion I have decided to bottle it up until the end of this week where various deadlines are over.

Yesterday after doing some more writing I was invited out by a friend for afternoon tea. She wanted to take someone I work with and I out for a posh meal as a thank you for getting her to do something which turned her business around, well not turned it around. It's not like she was in trouble or anything but it definitely helped. It probably helped a bit too much in the view of her boyfriend as after her business got a sudden influx of cash she redecorated her flat, got a new haircut and broke up with him.

Our reward was afternoon tea at the Wolseley. We opened with Oysters and champagne before going on to tea and cakes, and champagne. It was lovely, just the right side of kitch and a great deal of time was spent trying to work out if each of the cakes was better with champagne or tea.

After the tea we stumbled over to the 50 club to drink cocktails. The first round were moderately sensible, but then it got worse. After a few rounds of 'sweet sue' and 'Demon martini' one cocktail appeared with a chili on the side of it.

I was challenged to eat the chili and various bets, side bets and hedge bets were thrown up and before I knew it a wodge of cash was on the table, a swarm of people holding money and I was holding the tiny evil red chili in front of me.

What did I do with the chili? Reader, I ate it.