Le Shopping and sandwich weirdness

There were some errands that had to be run this lunchtime. Firstly, Puss has kindly lent me the keys to the Pole Boudoir so I can do some practise while she's in gai Paris for a few days. As a thank you, I popped down to Paul A Young's at the Royal Exchange. I thought our local chocolatier had some interesting flavours, but wow. This guy must be on some weird shit when he plans the recipes! Port and stilton anyone? Marmite? There were lots of intriguing and yummy looking ones too, like Bison grass or something, and blood peach, and strawberry with pink peppercorn, as well as the more usual champagne truffles. (Hope Puss isn't reading this before she gets back!) The lovely lady serving let me try a Guinness ganache - chocolatey and creamy while you eat it with the Guinness flavours coming through at the end. The shop also smells divine, and it's cool and dark, and they obviously take their chocolate veeery seriously.

Then, in a multi-tasking sort of way, I popped two doors down to Jo Malone. I've been wanting to smell their basil and mandarin perfume for a while, because it keeps getting written up in magazines, but the sweetly-smiling assistant in there offered me a free arm and hand massage so I could try out a couple, so here I am typing smelling of (on my right) nectarine blossom and honey and (on my left) French lime blossom. I smell like a summer garden, or the orchard when all the trees are in full bloom. I need to be wearing more flounces and lace. It's delicious.

(That was a very sensually-themed outing, wasn't it? As in smell and touch and taste. What were you thinking, you reprobates?)

And then, on to the sandwich weirdness. Fuzzy's Grub has been recommended by a couple of people, but I didn't know much about it other than it does roast meats. You can even get a full roast meal in there. But a full roast meal in a sandwich?? The bloke serving me, armed with a bap* smothered in horseradish sauce, looks at me and asks, 'Peas and carrots?' 'What?' I say. 'Peas and carrots?' 'Um, no, just some salad please.' 'Yorkshire pudding?' In a sandwich?? 'Uh, yeah, OK.' 'Roast potato?' What the hell, in for a penny... 'Yeah, OK, thanks.' (Bloke crams in as much as possible, then wedges on half a pound of roast beef.) 'I guess gravy might be a bit much', he admits, but blatently the possibility is there, should I so desire.

Good grief.

*bread roll. Also an English term for lady's frontage (ie 'Cor, look at the baps on her').