Mitten d'Amour

Just absolutely HONKING out hot toots that smell like a fire in the bin behind a clap clinic and honestly, this is when cats win out over a romantic partner because not *one* word of complaint.

Not a pretty video but I’m clocking it because I’ve been feeling weak and not seeing progress in the gym recently but decided to have a second go at a 100kg deadlift and it was EASIER and I am not weaker I am STRONG LIKE FARM GIRL YES

I ask for "no corriander" and they say "no corriander" but then I get corriander, so now I have food that tastes like I've been huffing a Glad pug-in and trust issues.

20% of people have it, it's fucking torturous as it's become such a biquitous ingredient in EVERY FUCKING THING.

You had your time, corriander lovers.

I know the majority of the population are not afflicted with the genes that make corriander taste like something used to strip stains off hotel upholstery, but owing to the amount of times Asian eateries have 'accidentally' inflicted it in a stealth assault, I'm going to have to ban it completely.

Ha! I hadn’t even clocked he was there.

Category is… jumble sale chic.

Ha!

Tee hee

And I have the rest of the papaya to finish this week. 🧵

And as I set about the odious cleanup task I noted the fragrant, unmistakeable smell of the papaya I had for breakfast - and a memory came flooding back. Of how reassuringly papaya was deployed to swiftly end a week of constipation on holiday.

The bowl. The seat. The Lid. My running leggings. My kecks. The floor. The bathmat. One shoe. Nothing was spared the chocolatey indignity.

No sooner had my hands grasped the waistband of my running leggings and my buttocks caught one sniff off porcelain in the vicinity, while still in motion to sit, my entire soul erupted mercilessly hoopward with an apparent geyser of torrid tummy mud leaving my bathroom looking like Glastonbury 1997.

Reader, I did NOT make it after all. I did not make it in the slightest.

I made it! Key in the lock, door flung open, safely within the confines of my own home - I just had to make it to the bathroom and…

I waddled, I clenched, I kegelled, I thought far less fondly of my bean and cheese wrap, my eyes fixed only on my near-drawing front door, riding wave after wave of near-defeat.

Could I make it?!

The terror, the fear, the need for full concentration (hush Lady Gaga - this requires headphone SILENCE!), and the battle between wanting to hasten my pace but knowing that would also hasten my faecal fate.

Then I turned onto my street.

The gurgle of a colorectal revolt, the hastening of a gut load launching violent assault against the back door barricade.

No panic, no danger signs as yet, and amply reassured by the emergency portaloo in my pocket* I carried on pounding the pavement homeward.

*Wad of can rag in a dog poo bag

Not being an idiot - and having very much been at this rodeo before - I ensure my route is going to loop back via my house for a ‘weight loss transfer’ should the need arise, and it soon became apparent that this was indeed arising.

As I set off I amused myself with the acrid stench of some particularly ripe botty coughs, paying homage to the bean and cheese wrap that had formed lunch. No-one in East London would smell them over the thick green fug of Mary Jane’s favourite herb that chokes the streets anyway.

(Yes, if you’ve known me a while this IS going where you think it is and yes, it has been a while)

Felt rather flat and tired today so spent the most part in varying states of horizontal. Guilt eventually got the better of me and so at 18:00 I headed out for a run. Nothing too ambitious, just my usual little 5k route. Well…

If you have a crush on me, keep reading because I will cure that.

If you’ve had a bad day, keep reading because I will cure that.

If you just enjoy laughing at others’ misfortune, well, you get it. 🪡

My dad can be a diabolical Boomer and a bellend, but sometimes he really is a ruddy bloody good sort 🥹

Mort isn’t that picky - whatever 5Select is showing.

I’ve given Mort the TV remote. He’s chosen Columbo. Democracy.

Category is… I brushed my teeth - what more do you want?!

Smart.