I’ll put up more about my France Jolly when I remember to get it off my laptop, but meantimes I’ll just bitch about work.

Ooh, just remembered an old university recipe of mine. Very simple; shred some cheap onions, and chuck on some chilli powder. Fry up on a middle heat until nicely softened, then break a load of eggs over the top. Mix up rapidly, so the egg isn’t setting yet, then stop and let cook. Eat on thick-cut crusty white bread. Mmm.

Lil Bro Dov (Hi dov!) came along for the weekend (though he only meant to stay the night, he stayed his welcome and not beyond.) Reminds me everytime how perverse it is to call a six-foot hairmonster ‘little bruvver’. Even if I fell into a semi-heuristic synchronistic infundunbulum, and reappeared several years younger than him, I’d still consider him my little brother. This is nothing to do with age, this is because I am *enormously* patronising. And don’t think anyone here wants to disagree with that, mm-hmm?

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GriddleOctopus

There are few harder things in life than introducing yourself, especially in print where mellifluous nuance can turn to indulgent wankery. So. I am definitely a 'writer'. You could also call me an 'artist'. I could probably put the words 'designer' and 'consultant' here too, but they feel crass.

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