SUGAR RUSH

My mother... Have you met my mother? I love her to bits but I am convinced she has lost her marbles. I have two examples today alone. First of all I phoned her this morning to see if she fancied a trip to Tesco. (I needed a lift - she has a car. Simple, or so I thought.) She answered the phone and I propsed my plan, but then she replies with "Who is it?" WHAT?!? What d'ya mean who is it?!?! I think my Mum is terrified of her mobile phone, on the rare occasion she actually takes it out with her she will very seldom answer it, I guess I should have been grateful she answered it at all. The phone got the blame for why she didn't know who it was. *rolls eyes*

We (eventually) made it to Tesco and stocked up on crap we didn't need. A joyous shopping trip all round. I bought enough cinnamon swirls to keep an army happy, the shocking thing is I've eaten them all. FAT BITCH!

As if the sugar rush from earlier wasn't enough, I crossed paths with my Mum again this evening when she rang my doorbell and greeted me with those dreaded words "I've baked a cake." I should have hit the deck there and then and curled up in the foetal position, rocking violently until she eventually gave up waiting for a response and left me alone, but no, I found myself saying the words "Oh lovely" even if I didn't mean them. I say 'cake' but what it was called and what I was actually presented with are two very different things. Some might say cake and mean it but when my mum says cake it could be ANYTHING covered in sugar. When all said and done it was a jar of lemon curd tipped out onto a housebrick. One bite was enough for me. I don't know who will be unfortunate to be offered the next piece but if it is you, and it very well could be... my only advice is RUN! RUN AS FAST AS YOUR PORKY LEGS CAN CARRY YOU AND DON'T STOP UNTIL YOU HIT MEXICO!!!



Don't say I didn't warn you.