Pudding

I just received an indignant mail from G saying: “You didn’t mention the pudding.” And she’s right, I didn’t. Forgive me, because it was worth mentioning. There under the hot night sky, we made ourselves fatter, just like the moon, while I listened in to the plastic-surgeried-to-the-hilt lady at the next table going on-and-on-and-on about healthy lifestyle choices and self actualisation. She ordered a burger. When it arrived she threw her arms up, put her hands to her cheeks and exclaimed: “Chips!” What did she expect? Twit. She then scoffed them down at great speed.

Across at our table, the pudding was delicious. Vanilla Swiss Roll with chocolate sauce, espresso ice-cream and a good whallop of cream. We shared it, because pudding, in my opinion, should always be shared. It just tastes nicer that way.