I’m still mired in car-related chaos, here, but I hope to be finally getting it sorted out either today or tomorrow. I’ve settled on a Skoda Fabia Estate, subject only to the fates performing a further backflip and turning my plans around once again. Now, I hope, it’s simply a matter of choosing the actual car. Fingers crossed y’all, please, and a special mention for Mango Terrier, who knows far more about cars, and buying them, than I’d have believed possible until a week ago.
What is it with the contestants on Come Dine With Me, I wonder? I can’t understand why so many people who choose to enter a dinner party hosting competition appear to be averse to eating/trying such a wide range of foods!
Catching up with a few episodes via the wonderful TV on Demand yesterday, I saw great swathes of people who didn’t like/wouldn’t eat/had never heard of/were unwilling to taste bog-standard varieties of fish, cheese, chocolate and meat. One bloke made what looked like an absolutely scrumptious fish stew, only to find that one of his 3 guests simply didn’t eat fish whilst another one couldn’t face fish that came in shells and “…looks like this!” she said, dragging a snarl onto her face and arranging her arms into a pointy, aggressive-looking attitude in front of her eyes. It turned out that she was referring to the langoustines. After that she folded her arms and went to sleep on the table, though she was eventually able to rouse herself for a bit of chocolate pudding. In another episode, a woman was so appalled by cheese, and everthing that it involves, that she had to leave the room and watch a bit of television next door while the others tucked into a bit of cheddar. Profoundly weird, ISTM…
I dunno about you, but I’m already addicted to this year’s round of I’m a Celebrity: Get Me Out of Here! It’s the only one of the ‘reality’ TV things I watch, and it’s always a lot of fun (unless you happen to be a creepy crawlie living in the Australian rain forest, of course, in which case I’m sure it’s all a bit depressing).
The celebs that make up this year’s bunch are less immediately entertaining than the last lot, but it appears that things are finally hotting up. Last night’s drama between Kim Woodburn (a bit of a bully) and Joe Bugner (a bit of a bully, but larger) made such uncomfortable viewing that I had to watch through squinted eyes, and Piglet became upset and had to be comforted by the cat. I reckon Jimmy White’s going to come through strongly as things progress, and that American bloke, George Hamilton, seems to have a sneakily wicked sense of humour.
Speaking of food, I’d like to have said something about Raymond Blanc’s The Restaurant, but it’s so extremely odd that it seems to have left me entirely unable to comment. Well, other than to say that I was very sorry to see the two army blokes go out, and that my money’s been on the two cheery peeps from The Front Room (or The Living Room, or whatever it’s called) from the outset. There! That’s prolly the kiss of death for them, then! *g* More next week, perhaps.