#okay but it was a trial for my dinner party!!!! i used different ingredients than my go to’s and it made it so much better omg

[delicatepoets]

just made pasta carbonara……. joseph quinn… come home baby <33

[nomorelonelydays]

kick your pretty feet up on my dash

Part 1 | Part 2

 -

Two days after the Instagram account opens, Sidney unofficially gets put on naming duty.

 The strawberry shortcake biscuit is named The Taylor.

 The cream cheese-stuffed banana muffins, crusted with dark chocolate ganache, is The Fleury.

 The slice of warm spiced peach cobbler (available for just two weeks), topped with a generous portion of thick, whipped cream and vanilla ice cream, is The Deidre.

 He shares the account password with her, but she seems more interested in digging up her mom’s old recipes from an ancient box filled with yellowed index cards than photographing.

 “I’ll leave that up to you,” she says, then passes him a card titled, ‘Cherry Layer Chocolate Cake.’ “I think I’ll make this for the holidays. What do you think?”

 Deidre makes just one and a half cakes for a trial run (the other half, which had come out lopsided, is sitting in the back of Sidney’s fridge). It’s another instant hit.

 Sidney watches a couple, two teenagers who are making it pretty painfully obvious that they’re on their first date, split a slice in a corner seat. She’s chasing the cherry around the plate with her fork, and he watching her like she hung the literal moon. He laughs a little too hard at her jokes, his eyes crinkling like Geno’s when he’s chirping Sidney. But with the way she’s beaming, it’s clear that she doesn’t mind at all.

 He’s not jealous—or, at least, he doesn’t think he’s jealous. Having hockey and having a boyfriend have always been mutually exclusive. But now, with no obligations to the NHL, he’s supposedly free to do everything that he’s wanted to. He doesn’t dwell too long on it though, because the last thing he needs is to have an existential spiral in Deidre’s store over whether or not he’s missed his his golden hour to be happy the exact minute the Penguins drafted him all those years ago.

 He finishes lettering the card for the cherry chocolate cake and slides ‘The Jack’ neatly into its proper holder.

-

Geno calls him on Thursday nights now, like clockwork. He’s grateful for the routineness of it, especially when he knows how much Geno lives on spontaneity. It’s always the same—updates on how the team is doing (good, the weather over in Pittsburgh (not so good), another dumb prank the rookies are trying to pull (hilarious, but slightly unoriginal with the shaving cream), even though it’ll never be as good as the ones Flower used to plan.

 “How are you?” Geno asks one night, while Sidney is puttering around the kitchen to figure out what he wants to make for dinner. “Your tomatoes grow?”

 “I think those are a goner,” Sidney grimaces. The entire plant had shriveled up weeks ago, despite Sidney faithfully watering them. “Guess I’ll just have to stick with the storebought ones.”

 Geno is silent for a bit. Then, “Is quiet in locker room without you.”

 Sidney pauses. “I doubt that’s true.” There’s plenty of rookies every year, eager to prove themselves on the ice and to establish themselves as a personality on the team. Besides, Sidney has never been the life of the party—that’s always been Geno himself.

 “No, is quieter.” Geno sounds like he’s swallowing a yawn. “Different without you.”

 Sidney’s heart flounders, and he has to blink a couple of times before his throat unclogs. “Maybe you should get to sleep. It’s pretty late over there.”

 “No, I’m not tired,” Geno mumbles, sounding very drowsy. Sidney can almost picture Geno, hair-mussed and sleepy eyes about to close as he curls up on his mattress. “Want to keep talking.”

 “I know you have practice tomorrow, G,” Sidney says. “You have the C now, you can’t get there two hours late anymore.”

 “I’m never late,” Geno huffs. “You too early.”

 “Get some rest,” Sidney says gently. “I’ll still be here next week, same as usual.”

 “Maybe I call tomorrow.’

 “I won’t go anywhere.”

 “Wish you still here, Sid,” he murmurs. “Miss you so bad, some days.”

 Sidney doesn’t miss a beat. “I miss you, too,” he whispers, because any louder and he knows his voice will crack. “I’ll be here tomorrow. And the day after, if you still want to call.”

 “Okay,” Geno says. “Okay.”

 -

 Sidney’s restocking the brioche rolls when Deidre’s voice casually pipes up from the coffee machine, “You have a secret admirer, you know.”

 “I know. It’s Samantha. PTA President,” Sidney says, trying to not sound exasperated. He only knows her name and title because she must’ve giggled it at him as a greeting every single time she’s marched in. “She asked me what the main ingredient was in the banana muffins and I told her banana like, three times.”

 “She just likes to hear you say banana. And no, it’s not Sam.” Deidre makes a come hither motion with her hands and slides a napkin towards Sidney. “Yesterday afternoon, there was a young man, maybe around his 30s, who stopped by for a latte and he asked where you were.”

 “Oh.” There’s something he can’t name fluttering in his stomach. The words on the napkin scrawled out, Jeremy, and a string of numbers. “What did you say?”

 “I told him, ‘He’s a cute one, isn’t he? He’s the store eye candy, bringing in all the sales.’”

 “Dee, you didn’t.”

 “I did, and he went full red. It was adorable. And I told him that you pop in in the mornings and in the afternoon to help with opening and closing.” She leans forward, grinning. “I’m just saying, think about it.”

 He thinks about it.

 At night, he tells Geno, “I think I have a secret admirer. Or a stalker.”

 Geno’s voice suddenly becomes infinitely more awake. “Have what? Someone stand outside your house? I read about this before, you need call police.”

 “No, it was at the bakery. I got his number on a napkin. Well, the owner gave me his name on a napkin, so I don’t really know what he looks like. He could be 100. People in this town are usually…around that age range.”

 Geno still sounds perplexed. “So say no.”

 “What?”

 “Say sorry, only go on dates with girls. But thank you.”

 Sidney’s brain feels like it’s stuttering to a pause. “Geno, what the fuck?”

 “What?”

 “I don’t ‘only go on dates with girls.’ I—” Well, to be quite fair, he hasn’t gone on any dates at all. “You know this.”

 It takes a full ten seconds for Geno to crackled back to life on the line again. His voice is hesitant. “You only bring girls to events. Like Halloween, or—”

 “They’re my friends, I’ve told you. I’m not going to bring a guy in front of you guys,” he exclaims, then reigns in his voice. His heart is beating like a jackhammer boring straight through. “Hey, listen, I have a pretty early day tomorrow, I’ll talk to you next week, okay?”

 “Sid, wait—”

 He hangs up and puts his phone face down on the nightstand. It’s not his proudest moment.

 -

 I’m sorry(((, the text reads. The timestamp indicates that the message had been sent at 2 AM. You should go on a date with secret guy. Maybe he’s secret Ryan Reynolds.

 Geno’s texts are never longer than five words, usually cryptic versions of a yes or no, accompanied by eyeless smilies. Sidney wonders if he’d been painstakingly worrying over each word since Sidney hastily ended the conversation.

 I don’t think he’s Ryan Reynolds, Sidney sends back. Besides, no one in this town knows hockey. That’s gonna be a problem.

 Geno’s reply is instantaneous, as if he’d been waiting.

 Picky)))))

More messages follow in quick succession, before Sidney can even start typing. 

But always best for u. Deserve the best only.

 He laces up his shoes and heads to Dee’s.

 -

 It snows a little mid-December.

 He helps Deidre with the decorations, hanging up tinsel and little snowflake cutouts on the window. She has a box of Christmas lights stored away in a dusty box from the attic, which definitely looks like they haven’t been disturbed since the 80s, but the one of the bulbs dies with a sad fizz the moment Sidney plugs it in. So they have to make do with the other nonflammable options.

 The store looks nice. ‘Well-loved’ is a better word for it, with its mismatched decorations and ancient garlands. He snaps a photo of the mini tree on the counter for Instagram before he goes to help Deidre frost the rest of the ornament-shaped sugar cookies.

 There’s commotion on the streets from all the tourists and families coming back for the holidays. He thinks about flying to Nova Scotia for the holidays, but then he realizes that none of Deidre’s children will be coming to Cardwell Point.

 “They’re busy,” she shrugs indifferently, but she turns her back to Sidney as she busies herself with rearranging the shelfs. “It’s alright. That’s what Skype is for, right? Besides, I have to watch the store.”

 He thinks about Geno, who’s probably headed to Florida soon to escape the onslaught of winter chill that he absolutely abhors, no matter how much he loves the city. He could Skype Geno, or Facetime him. Except Geno would always have the angle wrong, and Sidney’s sure he’d just get an on-brand mugshot of Geno’s nostril from the bottom up for the whole conversation. 

He did ask Sidney if he wanted to go to Florida, except the way he had asked had felt like a given tagged with a question mark at the end (Florida w me this year?). Nonetheless, Sidney had been tempted.

 But he also wonders if he’d feel even more homesick when Geno is physically standing in front of him again, all tall and loud and too big, too much, too many years of his unrequited love staring at him and making Sidney think that he has a chance. He doesn’t want to go to Florida to watch Geno pick up strangers at a club.

 “I’m not going anywhere, either,” he tells her.

 She looks over, finally, pursing her lips like she’s trying to hold back her smile.

 @DeesBakeryandCafe

Season’s greetings and a happy New Year to our wonderful customers and families here in Cardwell Point. Hope everyone is spending time with their loved ones this holiday season.

-

 Winter refuses to go. The clouds hang over the streets stubbornly, and each days trudges on like it’s dragging its feet.

 He misses skating.

 He misses Geno. Especially as it gets closer to February and teenagers and adults alike start coming to the shop in twos, their gloved hands clasped together as they squeeze through Dee’s tiny corridor when it’s really much easier to be in a single-file line.

 He’s not jealous. He is not.

 But he is lonely. And really fucking cold.

 He serves up at least thirty slices of The Jack, which is apparently the most popular item these days thanks to Instagram. Deidre switches up the decoration, so the cherry-glazed design in the middle forms a big, gaudy heart. The Internet completely eats up. Sidney doesn’t understand it.

 “It’s like a Titanic reference, right?” a customer asks, as he picks up the cake for his wife. “Like, an ‘I’ll never let you go,’ kind of thing. Jack and Rose?”

 “Sure,” Sidney says. It’s really for his first childhood crush, but he can work with the Titanic.

 The moment Deidre fills her last custom order of The Jack (and there had been plenty of those, for anniversaries to birthdays to just becauses), she tells Sidney that she’s figured out how to make her mother’s cheesecake.

 “Finally worked out how to stop the goddamn filling from clotting,” she says, cutting him a slice. The cake has a brownie bottom, and the inside is perfectly creamy and smooth and dotted with dark chocolate chips. “What do you think?”

 “I’m biased,” Sidney says, trying to not scarf down the whole thing like an animal. “I love cheesecakes. This one is my favorite so far.”

 “Good,” she tells him. “You can name this one, then.”

 His fork stops mid-air. “Weren’t you going to call it ‘The Lily’?”

 She pats his arm affectionately, not unlike the day she did when Sidney told her why he ended up at Cardwell Point. “I figured she wouldn’t mind. This can be our second February special. God, I’m sick of The Jack.”

 The next week, Sidney carefully slides The Geno in its display cabinet.

 (Deidre doesn’t ask about the peculiar name. She never does, and Sidney is grateful.)

 After over a decade in the NHL, he’s well aware of what he can and can’t have. But lately he’s been feeling selfish. He snaps a photo of the cheesecake and sends it to Deidre.

It’s a good photo.

-

 “I got invited to a neighborhood potluck yesterday,” Sidney mumbles into the receiver, when Flower asks him how retirement is treating him. “I don’t know what to bring. Maybe I’ll bring something from the bakery.”

 “Do you officially work at the bakery or are you just there because the owner is blackmailing you? Does she know who you are?”

 “I just help out when I can. And no, I told you, it’s not a hockey town. They do have competitive knitting here. It’s a thing.” Sidney doesn’t have much to do these days, aside from working out and catching up on reading, which means that he does end up doing most of the latter in the café. Maybe he should take up competitive knitting. “I started an Instagram for her shop. We just hit 200 followers.”

 “You know how to do that?” Flower asks, because he’s a little shit. “I’m kidding, I know you’re not actually a senior citizen.”

 Sidney rolls his eyes. “I haven’t checked it in a while though. I let Deidre handle the posting now. It’s her shop, anyways.”

 “What’s the handle?”

 He tells him. Flower is quiet for a bit as he searches through the page. “Pretty cool, eh?”

 “Yeah,” Flower says, his voice slightly off. “Yeah, it’s—it’s good. Looks like the real deal.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course it’s the real deal.”

 Flower makes a noncommittal noise. “Nothing. Cheesecake looks good. Does Geno know?”

 “No,” Sidney says. “I mentioned the bakery once or twice. He didn’t ask. Not, uh—not after I told him about Jeremy.”

 “Secret napkin man?” Flower remembers. “You didn’t go on that date?”

 “No, I didn’t go on a date with ‘secret napkin man,’” he mimics. “I don’t think he’d care.”

 “I think he’d care.” Flower always sounds so sure when he wants to be serious, and it’s one of the things Sidney missed most when he left for Vegas—there’d been a metaphorical hollow within the team for a good few months following his departure, and that void never quite got replaced no matter what.  

 “Maybe.”

 Sidney can only hope. But he’s a little too old for hoping these days.

 -

 Foot traffic is slower when they hit March, but Deidre promises that it’ll pick up when Cardwell Point’s 11th Annual Theater Festival starts in the middle of the month, because that’s apparently the other big thing aside from the 4th of July Carnival Bash. Sidney has just packed up another dozen of red velvet cupcakes for Samantha the PTA Queen when the front bell jingles.

 “Hello? I’m look for—”

 Sidney heart leaps to his throat.

 “Sid,” Geno says softly. He looks like the wind knocked him in (it probably had), mismatched Frakenshirts and all. “Hi, Sid.”

 Samantha may as well not have even walked into the store at all.

 “How are—“ He must be imagining things. But Geno takes another step, until he’s right in front of the counter and Sidney can reach out and touch just how real he is. He hasn’t changed much--still the same eyes, the same nose and lips, and maybe his hair is a bit thinner but he still makes Sidney’s chest feel too small and too big all at once. “Where did you—how are you here?”

 “Fly,” Geno says sheepishly. “Wanted to see you.”

 “What about—”

 “No games until Friday.” He’s staring at Sidney like he’s looking his fill and he can’t get enough. “I—I see your post, and I just—buy ticket.”

 “What post?”

 Geno pulls out his phone and flips through it until he lands at a familiar Instagram account. He passes it over to Sidney, his hands warm as it brushes against Sidney’s fingers.

 @DeesBakeryCafe

‘I love you’ tastes a lot like our chocolate chip cheesecake, The Geno.

 “Oh,” Sidney breathes. “Oh.”

[heyyyharry]

Happy Birthday

(from the Flatmate Series)

...in which Y/N throws Harry a surprise birthday party, but Harry ends up making her cry.

This story took place before Y/N and Harry discovered their feelings for each other. 

wattpad link

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Harry hated birthday parties.

He didn’t have a terrible childhood as everyone might assume, he just thought birthday parties were flashy. A bunch of people gathering around you to sing a stupid song while you stood there like an awkward fool, waiting for the song to end to make a wish that would never come true. If that wasn’t flashy, what was?

Harry’s last birthday party was in third grade. And he couldn’t remember what happened except for his parents inviting a bunch of kids from his class, most of whom didn’t even like him and only showed up for free food. That was the reason Harry had sworn to let nobody know his actual birthday.

This took place a couple of months ago, it was Y/N’s turn to do the laundry, and by accident, she found Harry’s ID card in his pants pocket and discovered his date of birth. He didn’t know that she knew and she wasn’t planning on telling him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to throw him a surprise party which she had planned one month prior to the special day.

“Harry hates birthday parties. And he’s gonna hate you for this.” Niall stood with his arms crossed and his back against the fridge, watching Y/N struggle with flour and raw eggs to follow this birthday cake recipe she’d found online. She was practicing to make a real one for the party this weekend. Her last three trials had all failed miserably but she was never the kind of person who gave up so easily.

“If you think this is a bad idea then why are you helping me?” She grumbled. Her tongue stuck out from the corner of her mouth as she turned on the egg-beater to mix the ingredients in the big bowl, careful not to spill the mixture all over the counter like last time. Niall couldn’t help but snort at how funny she looked.

“I want to see his reaction,” he said.

“But you’re his best friend. You should be the one to throw him a birthday party, not me!”

“Yeah, I’m his best friend and that’s how I know he won’t like this. I’m only helping you because there’s free cake, and very likely, a pissed-off Harry.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. She believed no one could hate his own birthday this much. Birthdays were supposed to be the most important events of one’s life. She was always so excited about hers, just thinking of all the gifts and special treatments from her loved ones made her the happiest already. Maybe Harry had never properly experienced something like that, to realize how fun birthdays could be. Thus she determined to throw the best party ever for him, of course, with a little help from Niall.

Meanwhile, Harry was sitting in a coffee shop on campus, having no idea that his flatmate and best friend were secretly planning a surprise party for him. He had to study on a Sunday because there was an exam coming up, and he couldn’t concentrate with Y/N breathing down his neck. She would either tell him stories he found no interest in, or nag him about doing chores and complain when he forgot. Harry didn’t hate his flatmate, she could be fun occasionally. Sometimes when he’d had a bad day, listening to her dumb facts about whales during dinner actually boosted his mood. But that was just sometimes, most of the times, he found her annoying.

“Here’s your drink.”

The soft voice got Harry’s attention, and his green eyes shifted up to see a pretty waitress. He’d come to this place many times before, but he had never seen her. He doubted he‘d forgotten such an attractive human being.

“Are you new?” He spoke as the girl put his black coffee down right by his laptop.

“Yeah, this is my first day here.“ She gave him a flirty grin while he was sizing her up. She must love the attention, he assumed. Without waiting for her to go on, he introduced himself and asked for her name.

“Alyssa.”

“Alyssa,” he repeated, smiling as her fingers ‘accidentally’ brushed against his arm. She didn’t need to tell him how much she wanted him to take her on this table. Her body language already gave herself away. As he watched her leave, there was only one thing on his mind: he needed to have her, one way or another.

Harry came back in the afternoon, looking very happy, which was unusual to Y/N. The first thing he would always say when he entered their flat was either “I’m tired” or “is there anything to eat?” So when he was this elated, there must be something wrong with him, or with the world. And so she had to ask. His reaction, however, wasn't something she could've seen coming.

“Why do you suddenly care about me?” He grumbled instead of giving her a proper answer. His eyes were glued to the phone, not sparing her a single glimpse.

“Just curious, that’s all,” she replied, indifferent on the outside, disappointed on the inside. She wished he knew she’d spent most of her Sunday in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to make him a cake. The least he could do was try not to be so rude. Oh well, he would find out eventually, until then, she would just have to tolerate.

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.

“Who’s Y/N?”

Harry flinched when Alyssa mentioned the name, that was when he saw the text on his phone that said: We‘re out of eggs.

“I just bought some yesterday, did she really finish them all?” He muttered under his breath. For a second, he forgot that Alyssa had to ditch her shift to sit here with him. He should be talking to her, instead of writing a whole paragraph to tell Y/N that she should only consume three eggs a week. Even he couldn’t explain why he must worry. When it came to Y/N, he just did.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Alyssa asked as she noticed the change in his expression. It was then that Harry put the device down, shaking his head. “No, she’s my flatmate.”

“So you’re living with just her?”

“Yeah.”

Although the girl said nothing else, Harry could guess what was on her mind. “There’s nothing going on between us,” he quickly added. If Alyssa thought he had feelings for Y/N, she wouldn’t want to see him anymore, and he couldn’t let that happen.

But her next comment was what he would never expect. “It’s funny.” She laughed. “A guy, and a girl, living together. You‘ve never looked at her and wondered if it could be something more?”

Harry snorted as he shook his head no. Him and Y/N? Pssst. Only when pigs fly.

“I’d love to meet her,” Alyssa said, causing Harry’s eyes to grow wide. None of his past hookups had ever asked to meet his flatmate, so he wasn’t sure how to respond. But on second thought, Alyssa wasn‘t another hookup. They hadn’t had sex, and he was genuinely interested in her. He hated to admit, but he was expecting something more than just casual sex. Of course, he thought she was attractive and definitely still wanted to her naked in his bed. But she felt different from the others, and he’d like to see how far this would go.

“You can come to my flat sometimes, and I’ll introduce you two to each other,” he said after thinking twice, watching the smile grow on Alyssa’s face.

“How about this Friday night?” She asked, and he agreed.

“Friday night it is.”

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One week had passed in a blink of an eye, and Harry’s birthday finally arrived. 

Y/N placed the last candle on the cake she’d spent hours in the kitchen on making. She secretly prided herself on how it didn’t look like a pile of vomit, nor taste like one. Now she couldn’t wait to hear Harry’s comment on it.

She knew he would go to that coffee shop to study like he’d been doing this entire week. So as soon as he left their flat in the morning, she got the ingredients ready, and phoned Niall to make sure there wouldn’t be just the three of them at the party. When she finished preparing the food, she had to run out to buy the decorations. Of course, she didn’t get any help from his friends, so she had to decorate the flat all on her own. Her hard work did pay off though. Everything was now ready for Harry to come home.

She asked him when he would be back and he said at around 7 PM. Now it was 6:45, the guests were all here and Y/N was extremely nervous. She felt like she was going to war when it was just a party. She had thrown surprise birthday parties so many times before. What made his so different from the others? She would love to figure that out, but at a different time. Now she must make sure everything went as planned.

“Martin just texted me saying Harry is in the parking lot. He’ll be here any minute. Remember not to make a sound, everyone! When he opens the door, we’ll turn the lights on and shout happy birthday, okay?”

“Why are we here again?” A guy whispered to Niall, and Niall shushed him immediately. As soon as Y/N turned off all the lights, everyone got into their position and put on their party hats. Y/N stood right by the door with both hands on her heaving chest. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Harry’s face when he saw everything she’d set up for him.

The lift finally arrived and Harry stepped out, followed by Alyssa. He checked his phone but there was no message from his flatmate. He’d texted her about Alyssa coming over, and it wasn‘t like her to not reply in less than three seconds. Still, he didn’t think much of it and assumed she was just busy making dinner or taking a shower.

“So before I meet Y/N, tell me a bit about her,” Alyssa spoke up when Harry pulled out the keys.

“Well, I don’t know," he murmured. Nobody had ever asked him this question before, so he had never thought of how he would answer it. “She’s quite…annoying, I guess. She always speaks too much. Sometimes I only pretend to listen because I don’t want to be rude. And she’s very uptight, not someone I’d hang out with, you know what I mean?” He shrugged and turned the key. “I’m only living with her because she pays half the rent. If it weren’t for the money, I-“

That sentence was forever unfinished because the first thing Harry saw when he opened the door was the hurtful look on his flatmate’s face. The lights came on. Niall and many of his friends were standing in the living room with balloons in their hands. And there was a whole freaking cake on the table. This was a nightmare come true, but nothing could be worse than the look Y/N was giving him.

“Well, this is awkward...” Niall spoke but nobody paid attention to him. All the guests were waiting for Y/N’s reaction to what Harry had just said about her.

“Y/N, I-“ He stuttered, but she didn’t want to wait for his insincere apology. She pulled off her hat, tossed it in a corner, and stormed off without a word to him. It took him two seconds to realize what had happened and hurriedly follow her

“Okay, the party’s over! Get out everyone, get out!” Niall clapped loudly to get people’s attention. Then he forced everyone out of the flat, holding the door open for them. “Trix, stay away from those cupcakes! Okay, fine, you can have one! Just one! Hurry! Jake, why are you still standing there? Move it! And you too, the pretty lady I’ve never seen before!”

Alyssa was probably the most confused when Niall kicked her out with the rest of the guests. But since Harry was nowhere to be found, she had no choice but to leave with the others. Niall was the last to go, after that, the flat became too quiet. Not even the fun and colorful decorations could tone down the gloomy atmosphere within the place.

Harry hesitated at the kitchen door as Y/N stood with her back facing him. She was cleaning the mess she’d left on the counter after making the cake. At first, he was just surprised, but soon guilt began to sink in. He didn’t expect someone to even remember his birthday let alone spend time on doing all of this for him. What had he done for her in return? He’d talked shit about her to another person and embarrassed her in front of his friends. Now she didn’t even want to look at him. It didn’t just stop there though. It got much worse.

“Are-Are you crying?” Harry was terrified to see her shoulders tremble. “Y/N, I’m really sorry about what I said, I-I didn’t mean it.”

His flatmate finally turned around. And yes, she was crying. This was the first time he had seen a girl other than his sister or his mum cry, and no word was awful enough to describe this situation. He wanted to comfort her, to make her stop, yet he didn’t know what to do but stand there, feeling like a piece of shit.

“I’ll move out...so you can find a better flatmate if...that’s what you want,” Y/N sobbed into her palms. Her words made his chest tighten and freeze him to the spot.

“Of course that‘s not what I want. I said the stupidest things, but I meant none of-“

“I’m going to bed now,” she cut him off and ran back to her room without a single look at him. When she slammed the door, he was still standing in the kitchen. Blood had drained out of his face, and his heart was pounding so hard he forgot to breathe. What to do now? Should he knock on her door to beg for her forgiveness? Or should he wait outside for her to come out? Or should he do nothing and expect her to let this go? He didn‘t know the answer. All that he knew was that he’d fucked up.

Harry returned to the living room after what seemed like an eternity. In silence, he took a seat on the sofa, eyes on the birthday cake that Y/N had made for him. Sighing, he grabbed the lighter to light up one candle in the middle.

“Happy birthday, asshole,” he mumbled to himself, then blew it off.

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The next morning, Harry waited right outside Y/N’s bedroom door to greet her with a huge smile while wearing a birthday hat. He didn‘t expect much, but she gave him nothing at all, not even a twitch of her lips to show that she was amused. She stayed silent and pushed him aside to head to the kitchen. For the first time, he followed her like a lost puppy. 

Y/N stopped as she reached the door, startled to see the cake she’d made lying on the table. Harry, now standing next to her, spoke up fast, “I think it’s not too late to celebrate my birthday.”

She inhaled deeply, not looking at him. “I made that cake for you. Eat it alone.”

“I can’t. It’s a huge cake!”

“I’m not eating with you. That’s that.”

As she attempted to walk, Harry immediately blocked her path, spreading his arms and legs so she had no choice but to face him. Y/N didn‘t give in, and neither did he. She moved to her right, and he shifted to his left. They shuffled back and forth a couple of times until she lost it and finally yelled at him. “Oh my God! How old are you? Six?! Get out of my way!”

“Please forgive me!” He clutched her shoulders before she could turn away. “You know I didn’t mean what I said...”

“I don’t care if you meant it, you still embarrassed me in front of your friends.” Y/N pushed him off, crossing her arms as she furrowed her eyebrows at him. Harry hoped she wouldn’t burst into tears again, otherwise, he’d have to dig himself a hole.

“You have no idea what I went through to throw you that party, Harry,” she spoke at last. Her voice was small yet stern. “I spent the past week learning how to make a birthday cake, decorated the house on my own, I had to spend a lot of time with Niall.”

“I told you I never celebrated my birthday. You didn’t have to throw me a party...”

“I know.” She nodded. “But I wanted to, and I started planning one month ago. I just thought...if I could make you feel special on your birthday, then maybe you wouldn’t hate it so much.”

As a response to Y/N’s confession, a tiny oblivious smile spread across Harry’s face. In that instant, he forgot that he looked silly in this birthday hat, that he was supposed to hate everything she had set up for him, including that birthday cake on the table. None of that mattered now that he had heard those words from her lips.

“Why are you smiling? I haven’t forgiven you yet.” Y/N’s voice brought Harry back to reality. “I’m still extremely pissed at you!”

“How many times do I have to apologize?”

“Your apology won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

“This.”

Right before he could question, she smashed a fistful of cake directly in his face and cracked up when he wiped away the frosting on his eyelids. But the sound of her laugh made everything better. He licked the cream on his lips and exhaled a chuckle. “Okay, I deserve this…am I forgiven?”

“Not yet!” Y/N cackled as she grabbed her phone and snapped a quick shot of him wearing a birthday hat and covered in cake. Despite the discomfort, Harry still posed for the picture with his iconic peace sign that she always made fun of.

“Now you’re forgiven.” She checked the photo, grinning like a Cheshire Cat and told him this would go on her Instagram. To be honest, she could send that photo to her whole contact list and he couldn’t care less. The cheerful Y/N he knew had returned, and Harry hoped this time she wouldn’t leave away ever again.

.

.

.

“I think there’s still a bit in my hair.”

“You can wash it off later.” Y/N giggled and wiped his chin one last time before tossing the paper towel into the bin at her feet. “Done. You’re good to go.”

“Thank you.”

His response made her snort. “Why? I was the one who caked you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Harry swallowed, scratching the back of his head. “Thank you for throwing me a surprise party. That was very nice of you.”

Those words sounded so simple, but as soon as he’d said them, his entire face turned scarlet. He looked away so she wouldn’t notice. Little did he know, she was also blushing. This was the nicest they’d ever been to each other, so in no doubt, a ‘thank you’ was a big deal to them.

“Why did you say the things you said about me last night?” She asked after a moment of awkward silence and avoiding eye contact. Harry heaved a sigh, now he had to tell her the truth or else she’d continue to think he hated her.

“Remember the girl I brought home last night?” Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I’ve known her for a couple of days now. The other day she found out I was sharing a flat with you, and she suspected there was something going on between us. She didn’t seem to believe me when I explained, so I had to convince her that I hated you. If I’d known you were behind the door, I wouldn’t have said it...I was such a dick...”

Y/N couldn’t decide which shocked her more, her flatmate admitting that he was a dick, or him possibly having feelings for a girl.

“Do you like this girl, Harry?”

“I don’t know...Maybe.”

“It’s okay if you do. That’s just human nature.”

Harry quickly rose from his chair and told her he was done with this conversation. When he turned away, however, she stopped him immediately.

“There’s one more thing. Stay put and I’ll be right back!” She said with excitement and ran out of the kitchen, leaving him dumbfounded. Only twenty seconds later, she returned, this time, holding a new pair of socks, and not just any pair of socks, they were Batman socks!

“Happy birthday! These are for you!”

Harry scoffed when he saw them, almost bursting out laughing but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Batman?” He grinned at her, making the poor girl flustered as her eyebrows knitted together. “You don’t like them? Niall told me you’re obsessed with Batman.”

“Do I look like I’m obsessed with Batman? How many times do I have to tell you not to trust Niall?” He said with a chuckle, his heart fluttered when he saw her pouting face. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint her again, so he threw on a smile, tapping her nose lightly. “Thank you anyway. Definitely not gonna wear these, but at least you got me something.”

“This is the last time I acknowledge your birthday, asshole.” She scoffed and playfully hit him on the arm.

.

.

.

A couple of days later, Y/N walked past a coffee shop and found Harry sitting with another girl. She‘d only seen the girl once before, so she didn‘t remember her face. But even from the distance, she could tell that they were having fun. Were they on a date? The Harry she knew never went on dates. Y/N wasn‘t the kind to stick her nose in other people’s business, but she couldn‘t help it this time. She ended up standing outside looking in for longer than intended. Harry was too busy paying attention to the pretty blonde to notice her. It took Y/N a moment, but eventually she figured it out. That was the one he‘d brought back on his birthday.

They were laughing at something on his phone, and he looked so...happy. The same happy he’d been every time he came back from the coffee shop. And now Y/N knew why. She kept on staring at the two, trying to remember if he’d ever laughed that much when he was with her. No, he had never. And now she began to feel differently. Something inside her didn’t seem right. Her fingers gathered into fists and the lumps in her throats made it impossible to breathe. She didn’t know why, but she didn't like this at all.

Taking a deep breath, she quickly walked away, trying not to overthink, but her mind didn’t want to let her off so easily. Now she couldn’t stop comparing herself to that girl who was a thousand times prettier than she was. No wonder Harry liked that girl…

When Y/N got back to their flat, she couldn‘t rest as her insides were on fire. She was biting her nails and pacing back and forth in her room, trying to make sense of her own emotions, but she could not. She thought about what to say to him, or how she would act when he came back. But he didn’t come back that night. He spent the night with the pretty girl. And for the first time since she moved into this flat, Y/N could barely sleep.

When he returned in the morning, she was in the kitchen making breakfast. It was weird to face him after all the changes she'd gone through in just half a day. She told herself act normal, but while trying too hard, her effort backfired. She ended up rambling on about meaningless things, which probably confused him even more than how excited she'd been to see him walk in. 

“Are you high on coffee, Y/N?” He asked, making her blush.

“What are you talking about? I’m perfectly normal!”

Harry didn‘t believe it, yet he only flashed her a smile and changed the subject. “I’m having someone over tonight.”

“Who?” Y/N asked right away, eyes widening. “Is it the girl you told me about?” Please don’t be that girl. Please don’t be that girl.

“No, I won’t see her again.”

“Why? I thought you liked her.”

“I don’t know.” He gave her a shrug. “I thought I did, but after we slept together, I was instantly over it. I blame it on the coffee in that shop, it probably gave me hallucination. I’m never going there again.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s not the coffee, idiot. Maybe deep down you were so desperate to know what it’s like to like someone for real, your brain created hallucination on its own.”

Harry squinted his eyes at her, thinking for a second before shaking his head. “Definitely the coffee.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she actually felt relieved, and that was something else for her to worry about.

“Hey, need a ride to campus?” Harry’s question pulled her back to reality. She blinked at him, raising an eyebrow when she realized what he’d just asked.

“Why?”

“I’m taking you.”

“Just today or-“

“From now on,” he said with a straight face. “But when I’m skipping class, you still have to take the bus.”

“That means I’m still taking the bus almost every day then.”

“Hey, at least be grateful,” he said but couldn't hold back another smile. Y/N watched her flatmate walk out of the kitchen, and only then did she notice, the face of Batman on his socked feet.

[comprosedreviews-blog]

Wednesday with Colleen!

Helllooooooooo peoplesssssss! Welcome to another wonderful Wednesday with Comprosed Reviews. You know that post from yesterday with the “Totally Unsuspecting Friend Victim”? Yeah, that was me. Monica got me to read one of her favourite books and welllll I was supposed to have it finished for today. That didn’t happen so this review’s going to be a little different. 

We here at Comprosed Reviews love both Star Wars and food so why not bring them together? 

Today’s Review: The Star Wars Cookbook: Wookie Cookies and Other Galactic Recipes by Robin Davis 

Genre: Cookbook (yes I did a cookbook, fight me)

My Rating: 9.5/10 Goodreads Rating: 3.9/5

It’s a Star Wars cookbook. What more can I say? There’s lots of adorable pictures and really clever names and a hilarious introduction. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, it looks like this:

Also, disregard my paint covered hands, I just got back from a long day in the set shop.

Btw this gif is so prettyyyyyyyy 

Why I love this (cook)book: 

Okay, first the pictures are adorable. The photographer (Frankie Frankeny) did an amazing job with the photos. The recipes are easy to follow and very simple. You don’t need fancy ingredients or cookware. Almost all can be made with stuff found in your house or at a grocers. I’ll go further in detail about each recipe later. The recipes also make smaller amounts than normal cookbooks (average around 2-3 servings) which is great for me who lives in a tiny apartment with a roommate. I can cook these recipes and double them if I’m cooking for my family or friends.

Why I don’t love this (cook)book: 

While the recipes have fun names and are tasty, they are kind of basic. Not in a bad way like they’re boring, they’re just really common food. There aren’t a lot of interesting or weird recipes. The only thing that makes them ‘Star Wars-themed’ is the names. But that’s part of the appeal. They are easy to make and simple.

This is where things get interesting. Instead of writing about every recipe which is what I had planned to do, I’m going to write about my favourites in each category. 

Breakfast:

C-3P0 Pancakes: They’re pancakes. What more can you say? The only different in these from normal pancakes is that you put a pineapple ring in the middle of the pancake while it’s cooking which makes them soooooo good because you get the sweetness of the pancake and the tartness of the pancake. Other than that the recipe is pretty straightforward.

Twin Suns Toast: This is delicious. Right off the bat, it’s amazing. Basically it’s toast with two eggs inside the bread. Instead of poaching an egg and placing it on top of the toast, this one you cut two holes in the bread and cook the eggs inside it. This recipe calls for sourdough bread but you can use just about any kind. And depending on how long you cook the eggs for you can get some delicious yolk to smear on your toast.

Mos Eisley Morsels: This is one of my favourite recipes in the book. This is basically spiced coffee cake but you put bananas in it. It’s amazing.

Beverages:

Skywalker Smoothies: Okay, I love smoothies. I had them for breakfast everyday for like two years. And the simpler the recipe, the better in my book. When I’m up at 6am, exhausted and half asleep, I don’t have the brain to read a complicated recipe. This one is very very simple. Strawberries, bananas, juice, and ice cubes. That’s it. Plain like that they’re delicious but for me, I needed some extra protein to get through the day. I added a scoop (or two) of yoghurt (any flavour or type) to it to give it a little boost. The same can be accomplished with protein powder, I just don’t like that stuff. It says you can use pineapple, orange, or grape juice. Well after much trial and error I learned that a mixed juice (I used pineapple/orange/mango) tastes best because you get a really nice flavour. I love white grape juice and tried the smoothies with that in it once and it was too strong a flavour compared to the strawberries. 

Yoda Soda: You know how everyone kind of has those dishes? You know the ones that they take to every party or event? And they’re really good at making it? I am that way with this recipe. Every time I have to provide a beverage for a party, I bring this. This recipe uses limes and lime sherbet but you can use basically any kind of sherbet. I use rainbow because I love rainbow sherbet. I definitely recommend making the liquid part first and leaving the sherbet next to the pitcher of liquid so people can make their own drink. That way if they want sherbet they can add it and the sherbet doesn’t melt. 

Snacks and Sides:

Tusken Raider Taters: Who doesn’t love potatoes? Potatoes are amazing. Tusken Raider Taters are basically mashed potatoes. They are delicious, crispy, buttery mashed potatoes. They are really easy to make and taste wonderful. They go with everything whether breakfast, lunch, or dinner. My family eats them with Twin Suns toast a lot. 

Jedi Juice Pops: Star. Wars. Popsicles, people. Star Wars popsicles. As someone who works outside in the super hot summer weather, I make so many of these. The recipe has you make them in ice cube trays which are very small. I make mine in small plastic cups so they are a little bigger. Basically its a strawberry surrounded by frozen juice. Sweet and cool, they are essential for the summer months. Also, I discovered that making them in ice cube trays and then putting them in your Yoda Soda is a wonderful combination. 

Main Courses:

Obi-Wan Kebabs: Okay, let’s get something clear right now. Obi-Wan Kenobi is my favourite character. So of course, a recipe bearing his name has to be good. Well let me tell you, this one is. Basically they are chicken/potato/zucchini/corn kebabs. How can you go wrong with that? I recommend adding sweet peppers and onions to add some variety and flavour. The recipe says you can grill or broil them but I highly recommend grilling them if you can. You get a wonderful Maillard Reaction on the vegetables and the chicken picks up a smoky flavour. Definitely add some grilling spices to them for a little extra kick. 

Boba Fett-uccine: I. Love. Pasta. So. Much. And I was so happy to discover a pasta recipe in a Star Wars cookbook. This is a pasta recipe with lots of vegetables (yum!!!!) and lots of flavour. It states in the recipe to use a bottled pasta sauce of your choice. If you have time, it’s best to make your own pasta sauce (I am a huge fan of tomato cream or alfredo sauce). But I totally get it, not everyone has that kind of time. I know I don’t. Bottled sauce works, you still get the same result but there’s just something about making your own sauce that makes things taste better.

Desserts:

R2-D2 Treats: If you have a peanut allergy, don’t make this one! This is a delicious and simple dessert perfect for parties. It’s bananas, white chocolate, peanuts, and Kit Kat candy bars. It tastes like if Snickers made a white chocolate version of their bar. The sweetness of the banana makes it taste amazing and makes you feel like you’re eating something healthy. 

Sandtrooper Sandies: If you’ve never made sandies, you are missing out. They are delicious and really really simple to make. This recipe calls for stuff I already had in my kitchen. I didn’t have to get a single thing which makes them great for when you are at home and really craving some sugar but don’t want to have to leave (or if you’re 6 hours into that Star Wars marathon and you’re in your pyjamas and covered in potato chip crumbs. Trust me, we’ve all been there). Sandies are wonderfully thin and sweet cookies that aren’t overly sweet or heavy. They are perfect with any hot beverage. I make them all the time in the winter for when I’m reading or writing and there’s a blizzard outside because I don’t have to risk leaving my house to get groceries. 

Bonus! There’s a super adorable page of Star Wars-themed stickers to put on your food containers. For example:

“Use the Fork, Luke.”

“Take a Bite out of Evil.” featuring a picture of the unfinished Death Star. 

and my personal favourite:

“It’s no Jedi Mind Trick. It’s just good food.” 

Overall, this cookbook is definitely worth your money. It’s got great recipes, cute pictures, and simple instructions. It’s perfect as a gift for a Star Wars fan especially if they’re getting their first apartment or are moving into a new house. The recipes are simple and make nice portions. 

Happy Cooking and May the Fork Be With You! - Colleen 

[rafguinabroad-blog]

March - May 2017

One of the reasons I missed out writing the blog for the last couple of months, is that there really isn’t much to write about, all I do is sit at home writing, playing computer games, reading and masturbating*.

As to the writing, my word count is:

Relative Ties – 60,000 Words (vampires and revenge) Apprentice – 30,000 Words magic and war) Librarian – 12,000 Words (sequel to Librarian,) Playboy Cop – 21,000 Words (playboy solves crime – shit title, I need a better one) Orcs – 17,000 Words (orcs join humans and go to war, everyone dies) Sapphire – 2000 Words (outline/plot only – female sheriffs’ deputy and white supremists)

Part of the problem is there is so much on the internet, especially addictive content like Facebook; I’m in my mid-fifties and am addicted to the crap that’s on there. I am also job hunting, and to date have applied for over twenty jobs. These range from forklift driver, courier, office manager, and office assistant, and haven’t had a single reply.

It’s quite dispiriting. Some of the employment agencies have a counter on the web-page when you apply for a job. This means you can see how many other people have applied for the position, one of them was up to 167, and most are hovering around the one hundred mark.

I am hoping to use my remaining Enhanced Learning Credits to do a HGV course, we’ll see how that pans out; it also means these coming weeks will be filled with the Highway Code and Hazard Perception practice.

Myself, Matt, Marc, Pat, Ashley, and Matty, spent the other Saturday at the Cambridge CAMRA beer festival. My first impression was that it was organised by a bunch of Doolally** monkeys who had problems organising a piss up in a .... oh wait! When we arrived, we spent 10 minutes queuing, got to the end of said queue, and discovered that we were in the CAMRA Members only queue. There was no sign or any information that we were in the privileged line, until we got to the part where we had to pay.

We then had to go to the end of the queue snaking in from the opposite side, and requeue for another 10 bloody minutes. This may not sound a lot, but when you have already had a shit load of coffee, water and beer, and your bladder is the size of an under developed orange, those extra 10 minutes are quite emotional.

Anyway, once we were in, CAMRA redeemed themselves with good overall organisation, and a superb selection of beers and food vendors. For those of you who don’t know how a beer festival works, the first thing you do is buy a one-pint beer glass.

This glass is marked up with measurements at the one-third, one-half and one pint marks, so when you womble up to the counter you can order those sizes, this helps prevent you only ordering pints all day and getting totally smashed.

There were approx. 216 beers, ciders, and meads. There was also a stand with wine, which I didn’t taste. To give you an example of how seriously the Brits take their drinking, here is a selection of my favourite beer names taken from the Cambridge Beer Festival website: • Twisted 7.0% • Lavender Honey 3.7% (with real lavender added) • Milk Shake 5.6% • Mariana Trench 5.3% • Black Pig 4.2% • True Blue 3.9% • Henry Tudor 5.0% • Death or Glory 7.2% • Strawberry Sundae 4.5% • Lonely Snake Citra & Simcoe 3.5% • Repetitive Strain Injury 5.6% • Brainstorm 4.0% • Slightly Foxed 3.8% • Ginger Panther 3.7% (this one made me think of Craig – but replace the Panther with a Sloth) • Dark Side of the Moo 7.0% • Chocolate Orange Stout 6.7% • Marcus Aurelius 7.5% (apparently it’s an Imperial Roman Stout) • Spiffing Wheeze 3.9% • Horny Goat 4.8% • Crispy Pig 4.0% • Prince of Denmark 7.5% • Fallen Angel 4.2% • Visions of Heresy 5.7% • Hand of Doom 8.2% • New Balls Please 3.7% • Mad Monk 4.8% • Back Sack & Quack 4.2% • Scream If You Want To Go Faster 8.1% • Smooth Hoperator 4.0% • Fall of Man 6.0% • Hot Dog Chilli Stout 5.0% (Just enough chillis to produce a pleasant aftertaste) • Bitter Invention of Satan 8.6%

Remember, these are beers or ciders, and all of them are handmade with love and affection. I enjoyed drinking them, not only for the taste, but also so I could walk up to the counter, hand over my glass, and say “New balls please.” Or “May I have Visions of Heresy please.” The other good thing about the day, was I was not the largest person there, not by a long way, in fact some of the women could have easily dominated me.

Matt and I had a most fantastic handmade pizza, which was made in front of us for lunch, and although it was slightly expensive, it was worth it. The only downside to the day was that my back had given way the week before, so I was in the most terrible pain. I was alright when I was walking, but struggled with sitting down. So the rest of the lads decided to show their caring side, and we walked the couple of miles back to the train station, and had bit of a pub crawl on the way back.

Marc held his 48th Birthday in his back garden, and he and I did a BBQ. For those of you who are unaware, Marc has a bar and a reasonable sized hot tub in his back garden, and as the weather was okay, most of us had a good time.

The only two creepy events of the evening were; Marc seemed determined to get me in the hot tub with him – I fought him off bravely; and I spent 20 minutes using a rolled-up towel to gently flick the bottom of a 6 year old girl in a swimsuit as she ran back and forth daring me. All present seemed comfortable with it. But I suspect that come my trial, it’ll be used as evidence against me.

Anyway, moving on. I’m currently looking for love, or just good old sex, on Tinder, and my age range is 45 – 60; apparently, it’s wrong of me to put 16 – 25 – who knew! One thing I have noticed is that a large number of women around my age, post pictures of their dogs, cats, horses, etc, instead of themselves. Why, do they think I’ll find the pets sexy?

How am I as a middle aged-to-old man, supposed to know if I can love you, or mate with you, in a loving and non-kinky way, when all I can see is a picture of a parrot, a pussy, pug or poodle, are the women subconsciously sending out a message as to what they think they look like? If so, they need to be seeing a psychiatrist, not looking for rejection or perverts on tinder.

Every couple of months I get my haircut by a gentleman of Brazilian descent, and the other day as I was sitting in the chair all tucked in, I couldn't help but notice that, a) he wasn't wearing underpants, and b) he was quite well endowed. Imagine if you will somebody walking around you in a tight circle, occasionally brushing your arm, with a small snake wiggling around in his pants. It was the closest I've been to sex in years, even if it was with the wrong gender.

Envisage if you will, a snake charmer whose snake is hiding in his pants and swaying gently from side to side, and it occasionally brushes up against you like a cat, or rather a snake, behaving in a non-threatening manner.

A few blogs ago I queried why manufacturers made deodorant that was good for 48, 72, or 96 hours. Since I have stopped working, quite often I'll not bother showering every day, and my record is three days. In other words, the manufacturers make deodorant for the unemployed. And I suspect it's not because we're all skint, it's because we either can't be bothered or we lose track of time.

The other week Whilst in Norwich, I went to Jacamo to get some t-shirts for myself, and when Marc found out I was going, he asked me to pick up a couple of things for him. He wanted sleeveless t-shirts, and when I questioned him about his poor choice, he told me that sleeveless was the correct dress code for the gym. Now, to be honest, I’ve seen him wearing nothing but a pair of swimming trunks, and trust me the correct dress code for him at any time, never mind in the gym, is a burqa and gimp mask.

Julie and Pat came round the other day for dinner, and as she walked in, the first thing Julie asked was “Jim can I use your Spermy keyboard?” Great! How well she knows me. First thing she saw when she sat down at the desk was a pubic hair, I swear it wasn’t, she insists it was; I did however, strongly suggest that once she’d finished, she wash her hands thoroughly.

A few weeks ago, Craig suddenly out of the blue asked me if my mobile was a Samsung Galaxy S6, and when I confirmed it was, he said did you know they're all wireless charging - it must be true because his mum said so. After mocking him for 5 mins, we drove to the only place we knew with wireless charging points - McDonald's, and arrived there at nine o’clock at night.

We bet a McDonald's meal on it. I was right, when we put the phone on the recharge pad nothing happened; however, Craig had more faith in his mum than McDonald's technology, and went and tried a different recharge point. Bastard phone started recharging, so we stayed and Craig tried to eat his own bodyweight.

Quote of the month:

Quote: All the Islamists from Saudi Arabia are wasabi. *** Corrected quote: All the Islamists from Saudi Arabia are Wahhabi.

How do you know that your friends are following the Slimming World diet? They turn up at your house for a dinner party, and bring Best Of Both (BOB) milk because they want to be healthy when they have their obligatory cup of tea or coffee. They also quiz you on the ingredients used in the making of the meal, and then spoil it by having four or five cookies along with their coffee!

Myself, Marc and Pat are on one of our diets again. We’ll eat healthily, but also cut out all booze for June – let’s see how that goes and who crumbles first. Marc’s trying to turn it into a competition, and is giving me daily updates as to his weight, food, and toilet schedule – and people say nothing exciting happens in my world!

That’s it for now, hopefully I’ll get a job and have something interesting to talk about in future. Jim

*Five, the record is still five, and I’m not going to lie, I thought my dick was going to drop off by the end. **To 'lose one′s mind'/an idiot or, Temporarily deranged or feeble-minded. ***Wasabi'ist – someone who loves hot Japanese condiments.