Kerrs Pinks

I am almost too embarrassed to admit that I brought some spuds home with me to the land of the invader.

British Queens though not Kerrs Pinks. At the Fair Hill the vegetable stalls have pots of boiled potatoes on display to show just how dry and floury the potatoes are with their skins falling off them.

Luckily I didn't get searched at the airport or I would've been exposed as a desperate culchie.

The Easynothingeasyaboutitjet flight that I caught last night was delayed by over two hours. They boarded the passengers numbered 1 to 30 on to the plane and then 45 minutes later ushered them off again without any word of an explanation. By the time I got home it was almost one o'clock and as a consequence I didn't feel terribly bright at work today.

Tomorrow will be even worse as we are having a partnership day. This means that our side and the other side all meet up with our respective consultants and we spend the day in a windowless room sniping and whinging at each other. I'm sure there must be some EU directive outlawing this kind of thing. I suspect that inner granda will be active tomorrow.

Comments

[Nelly]

I thought yours was a job in consultation; sounds more like warfare to me.

[Zoe]

Howdy, I'm hopeless at leaving comments, unless they're anonymous! I just wanted to let you know that I am reading and enjoying your blog. But, carting a bag of potatoes to London? That is a little worrying!