I'm very bad at looking after myself when mon C is away. Actually, it is probably laziness. So I ask mon C to stock up for me before he goes.
I have to say that I'm slightly surprised by what's in the fridge this time.
Forget the top shelf, the champagne is my choice. But as for the sauerkraut and pickled fish and the rest of that pickle stuff-c'mon. When mixed with cheese this stuff gives bad dreams. I mean, BAD dreams. The stuff of nightmares. That which plagues me and denies me of a decent night's sleep. With cheese...
Oh look-the next shelf is stuffed full of cheese. Yum!
So, do I really look Polish? I may have shaved my head, but it's not Warsaw chic these days. So I'm told. Ouch.
I don't think I'm dark enough to look Polish actually, though on the other hand I think the skinhead look suits me. Chemo-thug, though lord knows why I'm lifting my shirt*
*Note to self: me the shirt-lifter