Monday

AM. Spent the whole weekend avoiding Owen’s sexalicious friend William for fear of instantly falling into bed with him. I am not that person anymore, I am happily engaged. So instead, spent a considerable amount of time continuing with my research in anticipation of National Retro Dessert Week (NRDW). My initial findings were thus: there is a lot of ground to cover, in which case it might be more prudent to initiate a National Retro Dessert Month… or at least a fortnight.

PM. Harked back to the good old days at lunchtime with a bowl of Strawberry Angel Delight; it’s like re-discovering an old friend! It will definitely feature as part of NRDW, but Arctic Roll isn’t even getting a look in, that shit can feck right off. It’s one of those treats from your childhood that’s best left as a memory, a bit like Wham Bars or Bird’s Trifle Mix.

Tuesday

AM. So many more desserts to explore but still find myself re-visiting the jam donut, it really is a revelation. Although it has to be said, donuts are definitely smaller than I remember when I was a kid, and I don’t buy the whole Creme Egg USA debacle where they peddled the crappy excuse of ‘it didn’t get smaller, you’ve just grown up’. Me hole! The bastards have shrunk them.

PM. Bored at work and found myself looking at William’s Facebook photo again. I feel dirty. How can I even sleep with this guilty conscience?

Wednesday

AM. Couldn’t sleep last night, however nothing to do with guilt over a yet-to-be-committed forbidden sexual encounter and everything to do with pondering the issue of what kind of retro dessert one might partake of on Paddy’s Day (i.e. today).

PM. Got it! Answer: I’m advocating Bread and Butter Pudding, because it’s dense and therefore provides soakage for the vast amount of alcohol that will be consumed. It just goes to show how desserts can be functional as well as delicious. Will now put my theory to the test with the ceremonial joining of Bread and Butter Pudding and Guinness.

Thursday

AM. Ugh! The above… not my finest idea… more sleep now. 

PM. Tummy sick but must push ahead for the sake of NRDW. A slice of Pineapple Swiss Roll will make me feel better.

Friday

AM. Still sick at home, but thankfully Owen coming around later with some mags and a bag of jam donuts.

PM. Typical! After days of avoiding William, Owen brings him around while I am stuck on the sofa looking like Death’s aging auntie in crappy PJs. Things got a bit heated when Owen left the room and William asked for a taste of my jam donut. Unable to resist, I offered him some, only to have him take a bite right from the jammy part. Like, who in the entire history of the universe has ever thought it was okay to bite the middle part of someone’s jam donut!? Any normal polite person would automatically take their bite from the side. Thankfully, it means I don’t find William remotely attractive now owing to his blatant social ineptness in the realm of jam donuts, phew. Crisis averted.

Monday

AM. Went to a fancy pants restaurant with Owen on Saturday. Yummy meal, but not impressed with the dessert choice; we had pears poached in wine. Don’t have a problem with this dish per se, but let’s be honest, it’s not really a dessert is it? I mean, it’s more something light you might have mid-week while watching Corrie. I really don’t understand why these posh eateries have to complicate things. Like, when was the last time you went to a Michelin Star establishment and had a Banana Split or a slice of Coffee and Walnut Cake!? Why does society judge these desserts to be inferior to something that is covered in a ‘coconut and lime emulsion’? Emulsion is something I put on my bathroom walls for feck sake!

PM. Have decided that the country would benefit from a National Retro Dessert Week. In the interest of research I will start with a dry run myself. First question: what ever happened to the simple jam donut? It used to be the pinnacle of cake perfection but then lost its grip around the early 90s. First Dunkin Donuts came in with their feckin’ custard filled triple chocolate jobbies, then Krisy Kreme got in on the act. Not that I’m complaining, but we have to look back to where it all began; the mother of them all; the jam filled! Will make a concerted effort to get reacquainted.

Tuesday

AM. Owen delighted because his travelling best friend William is back in town and he is dying to introduce us. This is normally the point in my relationships, when things are going swimmingly well, then I meet the best friend, we fall hopelessly in love (or at least lust), and I have to break Owen’s heart, well it’s not going to happen this time.

PM. OMG! Just seen William’s Facebook photo and it might actually happen – he is a total lasher!

Wednesday

AM. Just had a full on premonition of me and William shagging. Noooo! I am happy with Owen and besides I’ve already spent a fortune on wedding mags, so will avoid meeting this person at all costs.

PM. Heather suggesting that my premonition may in fact just have been a boredom induced mid-morning sex fantasy. Entirely possible but I think it’s best to err on the side of caution and avoid underestimating the vast potential of my latent psychic powers.

Thursday

AM. Owen wants us to go out for drinks but he can feck off, must do whatever necessary to avoid clitoral thumping encounter with William.

PM. Crisis averted. Pretending to work late, but am actually sitting here enjoying a bag of jam donuts, which begs the question; how many donuts is too many?

Friday

AM. In the interest of National Retro Dessert Week, will consult with female colleagues regarding the above question.

PM. The results are in: One donut is appropriate for a morning snack. Two donuts are fine after lunch but only if you have a spinning class later on. Three donuts are acceptable as a gluttonous weekend treat, and eating four in one go is widely agreed to be an impossibility – we tried.

Monday

AM. Woo hoo! Owen is finally back from his business trip so am enjoying lots of presents, back rubs and wine. Have earmarked this evening for a night of scrummy dinner followed by filthius maximus sex. Luvverly.

PM. Feck. Totally forgot it’s my dad’s birthday tonight and parents have invited me and Owen around for dinner. Just spent the last 20 minutes trying to wangle my way out of it. Mother did her usual guilt trip; ‘that’s fine, we’ll be okay here on our own, your dad probably doesn’t have many birthdays left so I’m sure he’ll enjoy all the extra cake that’ll be left over.’ Told her we’d be around at 7pm… neglected to mention we’ll be scarpering early for raucous sex.

Tuesday

AM. Bloody hell. Mother got all squiffy last night and wanted to know what this ‘My Facebook lark’ was about. After gently explaining to her the difference between My Space and Facebook, Owen was then ever so polite in giving her a guided tutorial. So the parents were attempting to appear cool in front of my fiancé and my fiancé was attempting to appear easy-going and accepting in front of them, which meant we ended up staying until after midnight. Sex was put on the back burner, and not in the way I would’ve liked.

PM. Mother been on to tell me what a lovely night she had and now has the confidence to try using the laptop she bought in Aldi two years ago. Whoopee.

Wednesday

AM. Aggh! Logged on this morning to find a Facebook friend request from Mother. Nightmare!

PM. Queen Julian empathising. His mother joined Facebook and is always making annoying comments about his online activities. When he joined the Rainbow Alliance Group she made a comment about how she felt he was ‘a bit too big for Zippy and George’. Feckin’ Facebook parents, need to know that us kids didn’t think you were cool when we were 16 and you were pretending to like grunge and we still don’t think that you’re cool now that we’re 34, so shag off.

Thursday

AM. Mother just been on the phone to ask me if I noticed yet that she was on Facebook. Tried to explain to her that the fact that I (reluctantly) accepted her friend request suggests that yes, I did notice that she was on Facebook, but don’t think it registered.

PM. Double aggh! Just logged on to find that Mother has sent several Facebook friend suggestions including my Great Auntie Betty and some Dutch bloke with a leather cap called Rolfie.

Friday

AM. Phone call from Mother to ask me did I want her to send me some fertiliser through Farmville. Updated my Facebook status to, “what part of ‘piss off I’m working’ do you not understand!?”.

PM. Just noticed that my mother now has 57 friends more than I do, several of which are my ex boyfriends. Thinking about starting up a new enterprise, a social networking website for people over 55. Working title: Wrinklyfacebook.