Currently watching TV stations to see if they can run a Michael Jackson tribute program that isnt called King of pop, or there abouts, also pitying poor Farrah Fawcett whose sad death has been completed overshadowed so spare a thought for the golden globe nominated actress.
Actually sitting around this Sunday morning the Spitfire from last night has encouraged a "more relaxed" morning with Floyd around the med for company. Theres something rather soothing about watching Keith Floyd on a Sunday morning possibly its because you've got a vague suspcion he's feeling the same way as you, but also the whole lets just throw stuff in out in the open no fancy pants stuff needed makes a nice change. On the opposite end of the spectrum theres Masterchef which I would watch but one of the judges/prsenters seemes to have morphed into extreme bloated version of himself I caught it last week to see him sitting around stuffing masses of food into his face whilst barking as loudly as he can about how expert he is at food I'm sure he actually said at one point "Only me and the southern Italians like vegetables" which is a surprise I'm sure to the rest of the world.
Anyway all this talk of food has made me crave breakfast so its off to the kitchen it seems the spitfire has vanished from my system and the sunshines out hurrar!
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