I’ve got the Great British Bake-Off playing on the catch-up TV widget. Officially it is my sweet significant other who is watching it but, hmmm I’m hungry.
I’ll confess I got interested in it when #Bingate erupted in the last week or two. For foreigners and Martians, this involved some old woman doing something with a young man’s ice cream in her freezer compartment (these are not euphemisms, by the way) and he ended up throwing his own baked Alaska in the bin and getting thrown off the contest.
Then, just a week later, the older woman responsible suddenly had to withdraw from the contest on medical reasons after “falling and hitting her head on a hard floor in a restaurant” causing neurological damage that temporarily disabled her sense of taste and smell, according to the BBC. Yeah right. Do those people think we have never seen Midsomer Murders? One of the other contestants brained her with a jellyspoon, it’s a given.
Anyway, it is officially the most British scandal in the history of Britain.
Talking of which, a lot of my attention is being taken up by the Scottish independence referendum. As an expat Scot in England, it’s kind of freaky that my family could be foreigners by this time next week. (Shut up, constitutional law geeks). I’ve been keeping my counsel, as I don’t have a vote and I don’t really feel comfortable opining when I don’t have to live with the consequences. Broadly, my head says no and my heart says yes, but the honest truth is I won’t be devastated with either result next week.