"Floret! Right ahead!"

I think I may have to part company with the vag pots after all. Today's lunch was the ostensibly tasty sounding "Indian daal curry". It all sounded so good in principle - lentils, chickpeas, rice, spinach and a bit of cauliflower. And of course loads of Indian food is vegetarian so surely I wouldn't find myself chewing away for hours on end thinking, What this needs is some chicken. Or some bacon. Or pork. Or something else that used to have a face and was slaughtered for my own personal gratification, would I?

As it whirred ominously in the microwave I found myself idly examining the cardboard sleeve. Inside was a picture of cauliflower but there was something odd about it. Looking closer I realised it had been divided into segments. One was labelled "frontal lobe". Another said "cerebellum". I assume they were trying to make some point about it being good for the brain but it just left me very far from in the mood for food. Reeling with nausea I threw the cardboard sleeve in the bin and headed downstairs with my now considerably less appealing lunch.

I opened the lid with a growing sense of nausea and trepidation. It was like a funny smelling, plastic, much smaller Ark of the Covenant, if you will. Admittedly my face didn't melt away, but it was almost as bad. As the steam cleared, I made out a giant floret of cauliflower lurking beneath the surface, the tip poking up from the sea of beige sludge like a giant brain-shaped iceberg.

I didn't eat much of it.

Just a short entry today as I am off for a nice long weekend away. I can't wait. I am going to the fantastic Brighton, probably my favourite place in the whole wide world. I love everything about it - the tiny boutique shops, the cawing of seagulls, the streets teeming with tryhards, lovely little restaurants and cafes and of course, the tacky delights of the Palace Pier. Not to mention the graffiti. Brighton specialises in graffiti that is actually funny.

Everywhere you go there are little hints of personality that put the majority of English towns to shame, being as they are a homogeneous mess of landmarks like Starbucks, Boots, Burger King and (my personal favourite this) "The Officer's Club". Who the fuck shops in "The Officer's Club" anyway? Officers in what? The army of the People's Republic of the Appallingly Dressed? The mind boggles.

So I had a spring in my step as I skipped out of the office ready to board the funbus for Planet Long Weekend. It was drizzling miserably, I realised that I'd left my brolly in the office and worse still, Donald Pleasence was in the driving seat. I asked him if I had time to run up and get it and the weirdest thing happened. He smiled and said yes. Everything truly was going my way. I had to stop myself saying "Thanks Donald." Memo to self: never call Donald Pleasence "Donald". He's the only person in Bracknell who doesn't know that that's his name.

I probably won't post for a few days but hopefully I will return refreshed with stories, photos and shopping. Especially shopping. In the meantime, here's the appropriately titled "By The Sea" by the excellent Essex Green.

The Essex Green - By The Sea

Hope you like it, and have a great weekend. I'll be on the Palace Pier, wearing a Kiss Me Kwik hat, getting humiliated at the air hockey table and thinking of you all. Yes, even you.