Taipei eating on the drive

We hired a driver for our short sojourn to Taipei to visit my Grandmother, who was meeting the babe for the first time. We hired a driver for the journey as there were a lot of places we wanted to hit and there were 7 of us. The driver was a really friendly man to whom we chatted a lot about food. However, we knew that there was something special about him when we saw a cart selling my beloved pig's blood glutinous rice cakes on a stick in the lane next to us. He rolled down the window, somehow convinced the lady on the bike pulling the cart to pull over at the next set of lights to sell us 3 sticks.

So despite racing our way to the airport, we managed to cram in one last snack. Fantabulous.

Not once but twice

If any one reading this blog remembers one horrifyingly embarrassing moment I had queuing up for the changing rooms in Paris, I just had it repeated over the weekend.

It was a beautiful wedding wedding in a lovely venue. My eyes stayed dry during the ceremony but my mouth was definitely upturned. The situation was much different a bit later when one of the wedding party enquired as to whether I was expecting. As I said no through my smiles, my eyes met the other guests who had overheard the question and were kindly hoping to offer me their congratulations. I have learned recently that people who ask these kinds of questions have the best of intentions and are usually wonderful people but reactions to a 'no' are very varied and in this case, a poke to my stomach was made and the phrase "I guess it's just the tummy then" uttered.

When I made my excuses and went back to the boy and the babe, my eyes were definitely wet and my mouth not so upturned.

I want to say that I don't blame the poor woman but my own greed.

Election Night

Election night in my mind requires pizza.

Preferably in large amounts, with a side of crisps (UK election after all), lots of fizzy pop (to produce burps disdainfully at the candidates we don't like) followed by ice cream straight from the tub.

However, there were no crisps nor ice cream and we ordered pizza not from Dominos as I preferred (trashy food for trashing, I say) but Pizza Express (the boy won't eat trashy pizza), where the manager serving us implied that we were a Conservative supporting, middle class family, having lively debates as the election results unfolded.

What they didn't realize was that neither of us voted Conservative and lively debate consisted of "quit hogging the spicy one".

The babe may look like the boy but she's definitely mine. You can tell by the way she gets all the meat off her lamb chops and shovels pizza in her face. I'm so proud.