Last night I found myself attaching hot cross buns to pieces of string. A typical mid-week activity by anyone's standards, of course. The idea was to play a game at Kids Club where the young'uns had to eat the dangling buns without using their hands. It was amazing that even at this young age, cheating was quite prolific. Out came shoulders, elbows, or anything else that would make a good hand substitute (and in a couple of cases when they thought we weren't looking... a hand). I suppose I should credit them with initiative. But when does initiative officially become dirty rotten cheating?
I'm off to Preston tomorrow to meet a small army of Fiona's friends and family. I've already got the hardest one, the (thankfully lovely) mother, out of the way, but it still feels daunting knowing that you are going to be questioned to death all weekend. Bring it on!
The new series of The Apprentice began last night, and already I think it could be a good one. There are plenty of massive egos in there, ripe for a-puncturing. Stay tuned!
