Observer Food Awards 2007
Oh deary deary me. It turns out that the Observer Food Awards were somewhat of a misnomer given that there was infact no food of any real substance, but only those rubbish canapes that you'd have to ingest 1,354 of to actually feel anywhere near full up and ready to begin a serious drinking session.
The net result of this catastrophic turn of events is that poor old Lindsey was forced to drink copious amounts of martinis and cosmos on an empty stomach because as everyone knows, you can't actually be seen to be eating too much at this kind of affair as they only tend to cater for 4 canapes per person. Infact, this is why I hate them so much as I always end up stalking the tray service people like a crazy person, dribbling ever so slightly.
Anyway an A grade hangover has somewhat thwarted this morning's attempt at flat hunting. In fact given the severity of the hangover in question, I'm very surprised that Linds managed to get herself into the top bunk and not tread on my head in the process. I woke up this morning to find her fully clothed, tights, jewellery all in tact, the mark of a true battering.
I only hope that the nausea passes quickly enough for us it make our afternoon appointments with the evil letting-lords Foxtons.
Heading back to Brighton this evening for some wistful drinking and a spot of sentimentality....shout me if you're out and about people.
2 comments:
wistful drinking, yes indeed.
Your description of Lindseys hangover is very, very understated :)
And the poor hotel - as if you would want to serve up dinner for 800 or so world famous Michelin starred chefs. The poor chef probably had to be on beta blockers just for the canapés. Writing this cos just read the Observer food mag today and Brighton did very well out of it (Due South being a well deserved South East Favourite). Anyway - Linds was back out for Saturday night at a burlesque 30th birthday. Gavin and I spent all day and night in bed and not for good reasons. Yesterday it was our turn to hate sunlight and worship at the porcelain
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