Okay, okay, I'll confess.
I did it.
It's not the kind of thing I would've done at 25.
But I've just turned 26, and BANG - the compulsion was there.
And I admit. I could've backed off a lot earlier, said to myself, 'Hey, enough calm down.'
But It just kept on happening.
I realised that there was a safe place, an understanding place, where I could admit the horrible things I had done, and not be judged. Right here.
It started with the blackberry bushes. So many of the bastards. They took us by surprise when we wandered into the Common seeking out a picnic spot. When we finished our salad, we wiped out our tupperware containers, and picked berries for an hour.
CRIME 1 - Wanting to have a picnic, and more specifically a salad picnic.
CRIME 2 - Owning tupperware.
We arrived home with about 1.5kg of berries.
CRIME 3 - Weighing berries.
And this is where it gets really nasty. Don't read this until you've eaten your lunch.
With some of the berries, we tracked down a recipe and made a spiced, blackberry chutney. *Gags*
Some of the berries were frozen to make a crumble later *Vomits over own legs*
The rest of the berries were layered with cream and crushed hobnobs to create a layered desert *Commits suicide for the good of the nation*
Today, I *GROSS* had the homemade chutney *DOUBLE VOM* in my ham sandwich. And it was lush.
WHEN WILL IT STOP? I NEED TO KNOW.
I had to sterilise a fucking jar in the oven. Who does that? Why would that ever be something to do?
I FEEL BETTER, THANKS.
To try and address the balance, and counter how disgustingly twee I've become, I've developed a 3 stage action plan for this weekend:
*Miss a phone bill payment
*Listen to my music at a volume which would be considered inconsiderate, on the tube.
*Throw away my collection of spare buttons.
There, I think that should get me back to my typical Rock 'n' Roll self.