I’ve been swept off my feet by a man I met at the Cafe de Paris. One minute I was jigging around on the dance floor, next minute I was having my face snogged off round the back of the VIP area. How marvelous.
Last night he came round for dinner. I was going to cook Errol Flynn’s Roast Lamb but I’m cat sitting and didn’t have the recipe with me. So I made a coffee free version. Pudding was Ida’s Mousse. Always a winner. As he licked his spoon in an lascivious manner he said, “I’ve got a plan for the rest of that, and it doesn’t involve a plate.”
