After a long day at work, I stupidly went thought it best to do my Easter Sunday shopping. By the time I reached the check out and started unloading the trolley, I’d discovered a leaking bag of organic caster sugar. The very same bag I needed to make my breakfast muffins.
The thought of making a mad dash to grab a new one left me on the verge of passing out. I’ve spent the last month trying to perfect the recipe for my gorgeous breakfast treats. But there’s pain, and there’s PAIN.
I am still suffering from a 1,000 yard dash in very high heels down the Kings Road two nights ago. My feet are in ribbons. If that wasn’t bad enough, after a full day in the office in four inch heels yesterday, I went to meet my very fast-on-her-feet sister for dinner and a movie last night. I must have walked two miles from the station to restaurant to cinema to car park, and the soles of my feet were screaming. And so was I inside.
Today I have found solace in my Minnetonka moccasin boots, call me Pocahontas, I don’t care, comfort is what I’m craving.
So back to the checkout.
In bleeding heart style, I meekly held up the offending sugar bag to show the lovely man on the check out that it had sprung a miniscule but meaningful leak.
‘I’m sorry,’ I choked the words out. ‘But there’s a hole in the bag, I am not going to take it’
‘You can change it you know.’
I yawned (how embrassing at 6.45pm) and rather comically raised my tired and deflated eyebrows (yes I can, no botox). Please ring the bell and ask some wonderful person to save my feet and get it for me, I was thinking. He opened his mouth as if to say the magic words, but…out came
‘Yes, you can’
My eyes narrowed. I did not need a Barack Obama-ism to spur me on to do another marathon around our supersized not so super market.
‘I’m. Too. Tired.’ I gasped.
But after two days back at work and a marathon shop, that’s the easy bit out of the way. My Easter holidays are just beginning. I’ve got to head to North, South, East and West London, there’s an Easter Egg Hunt to prepare, a massive Sunday feast to produce and packing for a holiday and that’s all before the back to school mayhem, and then work. Compared to what’s coming, this was a bloody picnic!
Honestly, I’m really looking forward to it all. But there always needs to be a Plan B. At times like these, my hero Pedro Almodovar springs to mind. I’m a real fan of his early movies and especially this Gazpacho recipe. It’s an evil twin to my Bloody Mary Mix which I’ll begin marinading tomorrow for Sunday.
Ladies and gents, if your Easter Sunday gets too much don’t worry. When everyone hits the chocolate high from too many eggs, you may start to feel the exasperation of being chained to the kitchen and that irksome feeling when the champagne runs dry. Fear not, just remember this clip from Women on the Verge of A Nervous Breakdown. It’s an all time family favourite among the women in my family. Give them a bowl of this special gazpacho and I guarantee you’ll have a peaceful day and no arguments over what crap to watch on telly.