Carole’s off to Lisbon in the morning, so she’s headed over to Manchester to spend the night over there so she doesn’t have to get up stupid early in the morning.
And I am here.
And, you know, she’s get to get all this in before there’s a big wall built around the UK and nothing is allowed in or out apart from Snake Pliskin.
So I have a few days of home alone fun, during which I have planned things of a constructive nature but, honestly, will just probably sit and play video games without being nagged about it, and going to work in and amongst.
To say farewell to her, though, on this trip, we had a meal at Nando’s before we put her on a train and no-one was really upset about it. The trip part, that is. I think we were both pretty upset about the Nando’s.
I don’t have a lot of Nando’s. As Alun Cumming says, it’s take away food at restaurant prices. But the thing I understand the least about the whole thing is their need to couple up moist – and it is, generally, moist – chicken with bread you could kill a person with if you threw it.
I had a double chicken breast burger thing and it’s currently sitting inside me like I would imagine a foetus hangs around. Hopefully not for nine months. But it’s definitely just there. Just hanging around. I think the bread may have reformed into the original roll.
I shouldn’t have had the bread. I’m always suspicious of bread products which do not really absorb juice from tomato. That’s a tomato’s main roll – to add moisture to a dish. Sure it adds a touch of flavour but one slice of tomato doesn’t have people orgasming over the delicious tomato taste. But this bread was fully resistant.
And I think it continues to be as it sits in stomach acid right now.
Carole, meanwhile, had a wrap which had a chicken breast tucked away in a corner or it. From what must probably have been the smallest chicken known to man.
So that’s how I get to remember Carole setting off. She text me a picture of a huge bottle of water and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s which she’s currently enjoying. I am just mooching round the house hoping I can poo.