Guardian Girl

Yeh, me. This pie underwent a four-day gestation period in my brain while I mainlined Mullerlights and saved up for a better quality girdle. By the time the pie emerged from the oven at 22.04 this evening, I had serious plans for that glossy little tyke. And my oh my, it was worth all the aspartame in the world. Between the eating of the pie and the writing of this post, however, I have generally found myself to be pacing the flat distractedly while experiencing mild headache and nausea, and harbouring sinister maternal feelings about the pie. Why has this happened? Sugar is a powerful drug, I guess.

I know Hugh would argue that ‘a little goes along way’ and my Mum would say ‘oh lovey, couldn’t you just have one slice?’. In riposte, I would say ‘know thyself.’ Or more specifically: ‘know thyself to be a greedy tyrant who sees no virtue whatsoever in a little of anything going any distance at all if you could just yam a load of it in and see if that goes any further.’

Well, here’re the snaps. Whether I will pull my sooty little socks up another notch and allow myself to be photographed leaping about in a bodysuit tonight is anybody’s guess (tip: do not actually bother guessing, because I can guarantee it is not going to happen. Nobody needs it. Just leave me alone! Leave me to digest! Go on, naff orf!)

Conclusion:

• I said GO.
• Unless you can help me resize my photos properly.

Cherry and chocolate tart

Cherry and chocolate in dark

Addendum –  two hours later:

• Boyfriend’s comment on tasting pie: “Holy shit. Fuck me. Is this a Lepard pie? This is in-fucking-credible. FUCK!”
• So, quite a successful pie.
• The only fitting end to the evening was to head into the garden and get this other thing over with:

Wise one

Wide one

Any number of options would’ve worked for the caption tonight.

Pie comedown just setting in. Off to bed. Nighty night.