bitful

I love bread. I could bite your hand to get to the last slice. I could live on it alone - in fact, I lived on it for a while in Paris (bread and camembert cheese dipped in milky coffee - don't cringe if you have not tried it).

I love bread so much that last week I was ready to have a friend's friend's babies just because he was carrying a paper bag from The Bread Shop Company Ltd (17 Brewer Street, Soho, tel. 020-7434 3408 on my speed dial). Well, the fact that he's a 6ft 4in blond blue-eyed Scandinavian millionaire who recently took a course of steroids might have helped raise my libido too.

Can you therefore imagine what I felt this morning, as I was woken up by the sweet smell of freshly baked bread? I cannot even start describing it.
How could I not love Dr Bitful? And the fact that he owns a breadmaker? And that his breadmaker comes with a timer?

Of course, this could just be Dr Bitful's cunning plan to make me get fat (-ter), for his status as "the thin one" in the relationship is being quickly eroded by our winter cocooning (read: gorging ourselves silly in front of the telly).

[click on thumbnail for full view]

This entry was posted on Monday, January 19th, 2004 at 11:34 pm and is filed under uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.