Week 10: Emily wonders where the jam-filled doughnuts went. Why is life so complicated?
AM. Went to a fancy-pants restaurant with Owen on Saturday. Yummy meal, but not impressed with the dessert choice; we had pears poached in wine. Don't have a problem with this dish per se, but let's be honest, it's not really a dessert is it? I mean, it's more something light you might have mid-week while watching Corrie. I really don't understand why these posh eateries have to complicate things. Like, when was the last time you went to a Michelin Star establishment and had a banana split or a slice of coffee and walnut cake? Why does society judge these desserts to be inferior to something that is covered in a 'coconut and lime emulsion'? Emulsion is something I put on my bathroom walls, for feck sake!
PM. Have decided that the country would benefit from a National Retro Dessert Week. In the interest of research I will start with a dry run myself. First question: what ever happened to the simple jam doughnut? It used to be the pinnacle of cake perfection but then lost its grip around the early 90s. First Dunkin Donuts came in with their feckin' custard-filled triple-chocolate jobbies, then Krispy Kreme got in on the act. Not that I'm complaining, but we have to look back to where it all began: the mother of them all -- the jam-filled! Will make a concerted effort to get reacquainted.
AM. Owen delighted because his travelling best friend William is back in town and he is dying to introduce us. This is normally the point in my relationships, when things are going swimmingly well, then I meet the best friend, we fall hopelessly in love (or at least lust), and I have to break Owen's heart. Well, it's not going to happen this time.
PM. OMG! Just seen William's Facebook photo and it might happen -- he is a total lasher!
AM. Just had a full-on premonition of me and William shagging. Noooo! I am happy with Owen and, besides, I've already spent a fortune on wedding mags so will avoid meeting this person at all costs.
PM. Heather suggested that my premonition may in fact just have been a boredom-induced mid-morning sex fantasy. I think it's best to err on the side of caution and avoid underestimating the vast potential of my latent psychic powers.
AM. Owen wants us to go out for drinks but he can feck off, I must avoid clitoral-thumping encounter with William.
PM. Crisis averted. Pretending to work late, but am actually sitting here enjoying a bag of jam doughnuts and wondering how many doughnuts is too many.
AM. In the interest of National Retro Dessert Week, will consult with female colleagues.
PM. The results are in: One doughnut is appropriate for a morning snack. Two are fine after lunch but only if you have a spinning class later. Three is acceptable as a gluttonous weekend treat, and eating four in one go is widely agreed to be an impossibility -- we tried.
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