Hiya, After  a rather interesting pasta dish created by yours truly ,  Her Royal Highness my sister decreed that, after much hair straightening, that we could go pudding clubbing. Hoorah, wonderful, I thought,  until I tried to get into her car and she pretended to drive off without me yet again and I waited for 5 minutes for her to reverse back and collect me. I assure you no cats or small children were killed in the driving of her car (yet!) As we zoooooooomed off at about a zillion miles an hour through a 30 limit (me holding on for dear life and doing Hail Marys)  We discussed the usual elements of household life, i.e where has my  eyeliner /shower gel  etc gone please?????   We already knew which pub to go to as the pub landlord had previously pulled my car out of a ditch that morning (long story) so I was obviously in great debt. Anyway, we arrived at the pub in one piece and proceeded to come to an emergency stop (otherwise known as Katie parking.)  After shooing the pubs dog away  and me getting a double  martini rosso to calm the nerves (with lemonade not straight I hesitate to say)  we expertly trawled the menu and I decided on an apple and blackberry crumble and Katie a choc mouse with random pear attachment.  It arrived and we took stupid pictures of pudding eating and us pulling silly faces. When bored and finished with eating rather expensive but yummy puddings we proceeded to eavesdrop on some posh people.   Trying not to hysterically laugh our heads off, we realised that the word “Crikey” is very much still alive in posh circles.  Everything they said had some sort of rude connotations and I had to be told to stop laughing at them. Eventually we realised that we need to be home to watch telly , so we paid (bloody 17 quid) and I waited for Katie to pretend to drive off again. funny. anyway nuf sed