Sweetness and light

Reader, I am one of those people that stockpiles naughty things to eat on long journeys. I'm not ashamed, in fact, I'm quite proud. There's something wonderfully sinful about creating a cosy little corner of Rocky road bites, brie and cranberry sarnies on white bread so processed it sticks to your teeth and share size packets of skips. It's slightly disgusting, like a little piggie munching away and ending up with food on it's cheeks and ears, but I meter out the treats so that the journey (whether it be by coach, train or plane) is interdispersed with my own personal tasting menu, and frankly I've always been a pig fan.

I just can't understand the travellers that are able to go long distances with just dried fruit (surely the unhappiest of foods? No one can take pleasure from a manic depressive dried mango. You can imagine the poor thing trying to sell itself 'I don't taste very good, but I'm healthy! Oh...well, yes, I am quite full of sugar but....no....no, I won't fill you up for longer than ten minutes. Ok. I'll just sit at the bottom of your handbag, chatting to your tampons and snotty tissues then.') And those that claim simply not to be hungry have clearly never experienced the joy of journey-munching. It's not about hunger. I don't think I've ever been hungry on a coach, or a train or a plane. I always have a good breakfast. But that's not the point! It's not about filling a hole, It's about decadence, enjoying something slightly wrong and sordid, because yes, eating junk food on a coach going to Yorkshire is vaguely sordid. Sitting there, hunch backed, your arm rounded so that no one can see just how trashy your magazine is while you shovel cheese and pringle sarnies into your gob, and the size 4 stick insect a few seats ahead looks horrified as she talks to her travelling companion about her very small dog and how they're both on a diet of celery and lime juice. It's like watching Jeremy Kyle when a documentary on women in politics is on the other channel. Yes, it makes you a chav, but it's so much more fun.

When you leave the coach, the aim should be to feel sticky, fat, a litttle nauseous but also a little smug. Because what could have been a very dull journey was a culinary delight. And yes, you might have to have a bowl of leaves for dinner that night so you don't develop diabetes or have a sugar based brain explosion, but as you grin, bread teethed at skinny girl, you can at least be assured that your quality of life on that journey was a great deal better than hers.

Today, I am feasting on chocolate raisins and salty popcorn, mixed together in a savoury/sweet swirl of goodness whilst listening to the Abba Gold album. And you know what? I wouldn't exchange it for dried mango and reading the financial times for the world.

Right, time to hit the trashy mags,
Ash
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Aaaaaallllll by myyyyysseeeeellllllf........

Reader, yesterday was a comically tragic day. Because I'm going back home next weekend, I decided to brave it in Norwich and stay here, thinking 'Well, there'll be other cast members around so I can chill with them. Or the guys I'm staying with!'. Had completely forgotten that the guys I'm staying with were celebrating their fifth anniversary, so offered to get out of the house for the day, which they gratefully accepted. Unfortunately, all of the cast went back to London, so I had to spend the day in Norwich, alone.

Now, don't get me wrong Reader, I like my own company. I would rather go shopping alone than with people, and if I don't get time to myself, I go a bit stir crazy. So I assumed that a day in my own company would be delightful. Of course, the other thing I realised as I milled around was that it's the weekend before valentines and the couples were out in full force. And Norwich has surprisingly few things to do when you're on your own.

So here was my proposed itinerary:

10.30am-walk to town
11am-go to wedding show to try and find vintage style underwear for photoshoot
12pm-find a gym and have a work out sesh (had trainers etc in my rucksack)
1.30pm-have a leisurely lunch
2.30pm-wander around town, get valentines pressies for The Lad and find a new handbag (mine broke) and push up bra (my costume's a bit saggy in the boob department).
5pm-have a drink in one of the many pubs, whilst reading one of my books
6pm-go to see the muppets movie
8pm-have another drink at my local, read some more
9.30pm-wander back to the house to arrive back for 10pm, which would have given the couple plenty of time for a romantic day

This is what actually happened

10.30am-walk to town
10.50am-realise am in the wedding show too soon and this is why all the stallholders are glaring at me. Leave sheepishly and go get coffee in nearby cafe run by what appears to be a group of polish supermodels. Find out Muppets movie isn't on in Norwich. I can however go and watch the new Polanski film at 7.15, so decide that will do quite nicely.
11.05am-go back into wedding fair.
11.20am-leave wedding fair, having realised that there's not much to do if you're not getting married. No vintage style undies on offer anyway. Am offered a chance to win a free bridal makeover. Consider it, before trying to work out how I'd explain it to The Lad if I won.
11.25am-look for gym
12.00pm-give up looking for gym. There is no gym in Norwich town centre. Curse myself for bringing heavy trainer/sports bra combo in bag. Decide to wander round shops instead.
2pm-having got my bag and tried on every outfit Norwich has to offer (including a gorgeous dress which the amazing mother has offered to pay for as a gift for my approaching birthday-4th March if anyone wants to buy me pretty things) I am a bit bored, and have now realised am only person in Norwich on my own this weekend, am surrounding my loads of couples snogging the faces off each other.
2.05pm-Have lunch at lovely if slightly mad cafe, where I have to share a table with another person on his own. Cafe of couples looks at us sympathetically. Waiter tries unsuccessfully to set us up. Talk to The Lad, who proves to be useless at cheering me up over the phone, as he wants his lunch.
2.28pm-Go look around amazing baking shop. The Lad texts me, asking if I needed cheering up, apologises for being abrupt before and then whines for 3 texts about his sore leg and his attempt at french toast going wrong.
2.40pm-Lad realises that complaining is not helping, given that I have ignored his texts. Sends me very sweet text about how much he loves me. Reply, slightly grudgingly, muttering about Victor Meldrew. Go pick up his valentines presents, muttering about how he doesn't deserve them.
3.30pm-End up in pub. Not hungry but decide to eat chips, as is a belgian pub and would be rude not to really.
3.55pm-Pup is suddenly very full and standing customers are giving me severe evils for keeping a table, even though I'm just drinking a diet coke and not a colourful beer.
4pm-give in to pressure and sneak out. Fight breaks out between American tourists and locals about who gets the table.
4.10pm-find a slightly scummy old man's pub. Think 'Oh well, at least it's quiet' and settle down with my book and i-pod.
4.20pm-pub fills up with football fans, here to watch some match.
4.45pm-retreat to corner of pub to hide from large shoutey men spilling beer on me.
4.55pm-realise book is really quite boring. Call family for a chat. Family are planning a really nice dinner. Am highly jealous
5.30pm-try and sketch football fan without him seeing. Fail. Spend rest of time trying to avoid eye contact with him, as he clearly thinks I was checking him out. Wasn't, he just had an interesting nose that I wanted to draw.
6.30pm-decide it's the right sort of time to head to the cinema. I'll be very early, but I can sit in the bar and spend a while dithering over movie snacks.
6.35pm-both films are sold out. Curse the countryside. Enquire about other cinemas. Am reminded that there is a Vue on the other side of town, but staff haven't been there so can't offer advice on what it's like. Traipse across town
6.45pm-Vue is in a shopping centre which closes at 6.30. Entire building is locked up.
7pm-grab trashy mags and go to local pub. Is lovely and quiet till drunk football oiks turn up, yelling about blow jobs and cider.
8pm-work out how much I spent in pubs alone. Panic slightly.
8.05pm-eat packet of salt and vinegar squares to help with panic.
8.30pm-sympathetic hosts text me to say I'm more than welcome to come home if I want to. Am out that door faster than a speeding bullet.
8.40pm-chocolate and vodka with the couple I'm living with. Much relief to be home! They ask how I spent my day. I realise the only constructive thing I did was go shopping. Laugh, somewhat hysterically.

So not quite the day I was hoping for. But today I get to cook a lovely sunday lunch for my hosts, and then go for drinks with a few of my cast. Hurrah!

Plus, I got some pretty nice pressies for The Lad, which he'll get when we have our belated valentines evening next friday. Hurrah!
Hope you all had a lovely Saturday!
Ash
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