You can eat my madeleines

Good day non sequitur squitters, and I mean that in the nicest possible way.

Apologies for the kind of dullish tone to the blog of late. I have been flat out organising production matters for an autobiographical musical. Yes, at long last, I’m staging the rollick and frolic that has been my life so far, Before the bubble burst.

And in between the general buzzing about sorting out the production’s embryonic stages, hiring venues, squabbling with my friend, Brian the autodidact, about spelling, scripting and casting, I have found that when I have had a moment to myself I’ve been feeling a little flat.

You’re surprised; well can you imagine how i felt. I’d lost my usual smug gusto and thirst for myself. Feeling flat, why, it is such a drag, particularly when there is no reason apart from being a self-indulgent booby who wants every day to be sunshine and lollipop city.

Of course production of this musical romp through my life has provoked great moments of reflection and at times misplaced feelings of regret. So while in this funk I searched for reasons, and realised that, yes, despite my super bubble existence, picture Billie Burke as the Glenda the Good Witch, there was a feeling of being unfulfilled. Something was missing in my life, as Marcia Brady used to sing. After enumerating a few possible causes it became apparent that I’d never attained my life long dream of hosting a cookery show on the television.

Frankly I’d be happy with a segment on one of the morning shows which would then lead to my own 30 minute cookery show, Mixing it with the Mistress or perhaps Bel du jour. I don’t know and nor do I care. I’m sure Brian has a few ideas; he claims to have such a way with words.

Of course, I wouldn’t dream of creating any of the recipes and you can forget your verjus, crème fraiche, zest of pomegranate, and charred mango cheeks. I’d like my show to be a tribute to the Margaret Fulton Cookbook and Entertaining with Margaret Fulton. Not wacky, crazy zany 70’s retro nouvelle cuisine mind.

Furthermore I won’t be gallivanting to shops and markets or abroad. The show will be strictly studio, or stude as we call it in showbiz and in the art world, so i've heard, and not very instructive. All the ingredients will be ready prepared - measured, peeled, chopped, sliced, diced, julienned and placed in lovely clear glass bowls. So all I’ll have to do is remember when to tip the ingredients in the mixing bowl, while I chat to the viewers about this n that n me. I will of course occasionally savage the French and Italian languages and pepper my cooking banter with said languages’ cookery terms. Must get Brian to lend me his copies of Larousse Gastronimique, and il cucchaio d’argento.

So there’s the pitch, someone be a love, pick it up and run with it. I’ve got to dash to the community hall to meet Brian and Hetty. It’s day three of casting. Anchovederci and what not.