A Matter Of Taste

Does anybody else smell a rat with this bloke?
It seems odd he turns up not long after the wife sells up, what looked like a substantial property, and buggers off abroad.
I wonder if his life insurance has recently paid out.
Just a thought.

Since Housemate Claire’s Diabetes diagnosis, food experimentation has commenced in Sleepy Mansions.
I won’t beat around the sugar free bush - It’s shite.
Diabetic flapjacks are what I’d imagine munching a tampon to be like.
There is endless chewing but you never really get to the feeling where you want to swallow.
Although Mad Matt seems to like them, but I think he was brought up on coal.
Wholemeal everything presents its own problems, like being able to crap through the eye of a needle at 30 paces.
Wholemeal scones look like those fake rocks you hide the spare key in and wholemeal Pasta never seems to reach a point where it is actually ‘cooked’.
Neither does brown rice, not that I like rice. Horrible stuff.
I want sweeties.
I never used to but I do now.
In the last few days have developed a serious Crunchie habit.

Hanukkah starts at sundown tomorrow so remember to get something oily in to eat.
I recommend a big bag of doughnuts and knocking up some Latkes.
Yummers.

The question of the day came up in conversation with Sassy.
“Why do I always think old people are going to be well spoken?”