I have had my third curry of Lent! And lo, it was good.
Last night TheBloke (TM) and I went to our friend Yasmeen's for an authentic, homemade curry. I know it's authentic because Yasmeen is from Yorkshire, which, as we all know, is where curry was invented.
Yasmeen was worried that she might destroy my delicate palate as I sheepishly informed her that hot Doritos were "a bit much" for me, and TheBloke (TM) regaled her with an anecdote about how I'd found prawn crackers a bit too spicy earlier in the week.
But the curry was excellent and plenty of yummy yoghurt meant my face didn't explode. A good time was had by all. Well, TheBloke (TM) and I enjoyed it anyway, but we did spend most of the evening insulting Yasmeen, so perhaps it wasn't as much fun for her...
This morning the doorbell rang and the postman delivered a package to me. Not having ordered anything, this was very, very exciting. I opened it... and pulled out a knitted jelly baby. No letter, no indication who it was from, just a woolly jelly baby.
How cool is that? When was the last time you got a knitted jelly baby in the post? Never, I reckon. Because I am super-special. (Unless it's someone who hates me, in which case it's probably full of ricin.)
I suspect it may actually be from my friend Karen, who has more fun with wool than I thought was possible. Thanks Karen!
2 comments:
Was the jelly baby from Bulgaria? Because then your ricin fears might not be unfounded.
Maybe it is actually a knitted womb?
Hazel
Post a Comment