Twinfo

A friend told me today to go easy on myself. Or cut myself some slack, something like that. It transpires she’s wanted to say that for some time, but she’s not the interfering type. Not in the slightest.

And she’s damn right, it’s fine advice; reminded me in fact of the midwife in hospital that told me on day 3 no less to stop trying to be Superwoman. Shit. Slow learner… 6 months old they are now.

So anyway - you know who you are - you’ve made me think. Where’s the sense in putting life on hold until everything is perfect?

So thanks, I mean it. x

I’m having yaki soba for tea. Oh yes. Miam… (Which is French for yum.) Lucky me. And it’s not a carryoot (which is Glaswegian for takeaway), it’s from MY kitchen, cooked by my very own handsome new resident chef.

What it is (as they say in Bristol), my wonderful boyfriend has suddenly decided he’s into cooking after all. (And in the way that men seem to do, has gone right out and spent a lot of money on equipment right at the outset of this new flirtation with the kitchen.) Only I sincerely hope it’s not a flirtation, and not because of the gleaming fifty pounds’ worth of rasor sharp new knife we now own, but because not only do I get to spend my time doing something else, I eat like a queen!

For the man to whom preparing food were akin to painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel; for someone who cooked me something fairly rotten by all accounts on our first meeting, this is a breakthrough indeed.

And as for my yaki soba, we had it last night too. Apparently it wasn’t perfect. He’s re-seasoned his wok 3 times today, and is making the same dish all over again. I proclaimed it utterly delicious the first time, so can only wonder at the standard of fare I’ll be served up tonight!

Masterchef? Bring it on!