Vag-ing on the ridiculous

Last night we were honoured with a command performance by Janice Phayre, doing her Edinburgh Fringe show With Occasional Showers. Why? Well, of course because Janice is extremely funny and very talented. But also because the show stars Knitterrooney's World Famous Award Winning Yarngina (TM), which we London knitters had seen on the needles but never on the stage.

Janice was fab and is sure to rock the house when she takes the show to Glasgow and Meribel soon. Here she is modelling the Yarngina with its proud mummy next to it:

Of course I had to have a go:

Why there was a dorky bit of hair sticking out when I had it on, I don't know. Perhaps my own hair was afraid of being upstaged by the pubes.  You'll note I'm, er, spreading 'em.

Yet more eating out... At the weekend I headed down south for my own mummy's birthday, and she wanted to celebrate by going to Aruba, or at least the restaurant of that name. Resisting the urge to sing Kokomo by the Beach Boys ("Aruba, Jamaica, oooh I wanna take ya to Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama..."), at least until later in the evening when doing so in the empty loos cured my hiccups, we braved the chavvier areas of Bournemouth to head to the pier approach on a Saturday night. My brother thought this was pretty much taking our life in our hands, but it was fine. He's paranoid.

The food was OK, with some nicely spicy chilli and coconut coated big king prawns shared between us all to start, and for me and mum a spatchcock (love that word) poussin each for main, with lovely refreshing mango salsa and corn on the cob. Mum had sweet potato chips too - in her words "to die for", which always makes me think of the response in American Psycho ("'Really?' I smile and lift my lips into a depraved grin. 'To die for?'"). I've had better, though cannot for the life of me remember the name of the relevant pub. Dad had something billed as a Tobago chicken stir fry, when I swear I never saw anything remotely similar, or indeed at all noodle based, in Tobago last year.

All that was fine, but unfortunately it was one of those restaurants which are incredibly noisy, with no sound insulation whatsoever: wooden floors, bare walls and high ceilings. Worse still, they were showing the rugby in the bar area, so there was plenty of lagered up yelling whenever England scored a try. This probably makes me sound old before my time, but it just isn't enjoyable to eat in such places (at least not if you want to converse with fellow diners), and so I really respect reviewers who mention sound levels. So all in all, good food, but take a megaphone and a hearing aid.

They did give out cute sweets with the bill though.  I love the turquoise and white:

Altogether now: "That's where we wanna go, way down to Kokomo!"