Bloated. Fat. Muffin top. All these words relate to me today after a three-course meal on Saturday night followed by scrumptious Sunday lunch yesterday and then a spicy supper.
I blame Mrs Bancroft. She's the one who has always taught me never to turn down an invitation.
I am doubled up with wind, the belt on my jeans is digging in to my stomach and making an interesting imprint. I will need a crane to lift me out of this chair. Beware anyone who comes too close behind me when I walk the dogs later on.
I feel like the woman on the Nimble bread advert but for all the wrong reasons. She flew like a bird in the sky, light as anything, floating in her hot air balloon. I, too, will be shooting across the field. But in the way a balloon filled with helium does when it is let down.
With my iPod on, I will be oblivious as the whole village crumbles in my wake.
That's about all I can manage
Love Maddie x
On Halloween, I head out under the cover of darkness, a tub of sweets by the front door for young trick or treaters on the prowl with their ...
Back in Corfu and we've just learned that the village where we lived for a year is set to become another film location for The Durrell...
Over the past few years, I've avoided talking about Brexit, either online or in person. The referendum nearly three years ago ended up...