The Great British Bake Off is better. There you go, I’ve said it.
And while some may howl in anguish at my assertion, I stand by it.
I couldn’t bare Mel and Sue but watched the show for the contestants and the baking, and the inspiration and odd belief that I too would, one day, make a brain cake (not quite managed it yet).
I can watch and enjoy Noel Fielding who I love, and the rest of the presenters for being okay.
This is one channel move which works, in my humble opinion, even with Noel hopping into fridges. Though I didn’t notice Noel doing that – must have happened just after the cunningly timed tea-making break.
Bring on next week.
MY SON’S FAR ENOUGH AWAY FOR ME NOT TO TURN UP WITH CAKE
There are so many conflicting emotions running through my head this week.
Like many parents across the UK, one of my children has started university.
This was hugely unexpected as he’s always been firmly routed on one career path.
Imagine my surprise when he came back from a week in Zante and declared he was changing track totally and heading to higher education, especially as I’m an ex-lecturer and he has always stated that university was not for him.
I’d supported that, it costs so much money and if you’re not passionate, I can’t see the point.
But a week away has awakened a new passion, and he’s gone. Course chosen, uni chosen, accommodation chosen and loans sorted all in the space of a week.
Negotiating the balance of pain and delight though is hard. There are so many factors at play, and the worst (and best) is ease of communication.
When I was at uni my parents were lucky if they received a phone call once a week. (I had to walk to the phone box).
Surely all these worries will diminish over time, but for me, and many like me, this, the first week, is surely the toughest.
At least he’s far enough way though for me not to be able to deliver him homemade food, or pop by with a cake.
My son has chosen Plymouth, another city by the sea, to make his home for the next few years. And what a cracking journey that is.
It’s painful really – with all that glorious countryside to be explored in the west country, that the traffic there is so tedious.
Seriously. Setting off at 6am it took three hours door to door. Hooray.
Leaving there a few hours later to return added two hours to the journey.
It’s like the west country either doesn’t want people to leave, or wants to put people off ever coming back again as it’s always the same pain.
I will miss my son so very much.
And, for a few weeks at least, I will look with fondness at the students in Portsmouth, and remember that a family somewhere is missing them too.
Until, that is, someone pukes in front of me, or an en-masse group wander out in front of my car.
BORIS IS A BUMPTIOUS BUFFOON AND I FEAR WHAT HE’LL DO NEXT
Iam not a big fan of There sa May’s government, but, she was – finally – electedto lead the country forward in the way she sees best for us all.
Imagine my horror then to discover that the bumptious buffoon that is Boris Johnson is throwing his weight around.
He’s issuing contradictory statements about what he views as best for Britain, in what is a very clear starting bid for leadership.
Not only did he include false statistics about potential monetary savings (again the £350m rears its head to be knocked down).
He has been shown to have misled people over and over in his damaging career as a journalist.
That this jester should covet the crown sickens me, and fills me with fear.