CHOCOLATE VODKA
This tastes as gloriously indulgent as it sounds.
You will need:
6 standard size Mars Bars
700ml vodka (the cheapest you can find as the quality makes no difference to the final taste)
• Roughly chop the chocolate and melt gently in a bowl over a pan of simmering water, making sure the bowl is not touching the water.
• When the chocolate begins to melt, start adding the vodka little by little, stirring it until all the chocolate is dissolved and everything is mixed together. (The caramel will be the last to dissolve so be patient!)
• Set aside to cool.
• Bottle your chocolate vodka and place in the freezer for at least 24 hours. (It won’t freeze but will form a lovely, thick, cold texture.)
• Keep your chocolate vodka stored in the freezer.
Why is it that giving something up makes the thing you can’t have a hundred times more desirable?
When I decided to stop snacking between meals, for instance, I had this weird, recurring dream where a monster made entirely of Wotsits (Really Cheesy flavour) was terrorising my village and the only way I could stop him was to tie him down and eat him.
Tough work, but someone had to do it. Did I mention this was actually a daydream? (Joke. I’m really not that disturbed.)
But the point is, I used to love my lazy Sunday mornings. Until I met Nathan and they became a thing of the past.
And now I can only dream about them …
Ah, the luxury of surfacing naturally, without an alarm braying manically in my ear … followed by oodles of delicious ‘quality time’ with Nathan … and then a little while later, when we’re feeling totally blissed out, maybe breakfast in bed with the newspapers …
Nathan raps on the bathroom door.
‘Leaving in ten minutes, Lola,’ he calls cheerily. ‘We don’t want to be late.’
‘Er – right with you.’ I turn on the taps much too quickly and promptly drench the crotch of my hill-walking trousers.
Scrubbing at the area with a towel, I eye the waistband critically in the vast mirror above Nathan’s butler sink washbasin.
If these trousers were any tighter, I’d be waving bye-bye to my circulation.
But since my only other sports outfit is in the wash, they’ll just have to do.
I unzip the top inch and breathe out thankfully.
The trousers were a Big Mistake, bought three months ago in the excited aftermath of Nathan asking me out for the very first time.
He’d suggested a four-hour hill walk followed by a bite to eat at a local vegetarian restaurant. My best friend, Barb, raised a single eyebrow at the proposed itinerary. But I just laughed and said I thought it showed a refreshing originality on Nathan’s part. I mean, who needs predictable?
As with any thrilling first date, I decided it would be criminal not to treat myself to a new outfit.
So yes, I confess, the much-too-tight, figure-hugging khaki green trousers I’m wearing were chosen not for their hi-tech breathable and waterproof qualities. But rather with the goal of getting a second date.
The Lycra top isn’t great, either. It was a birthday gift from Nathan and it’s a little on the snug side, with my ample chest spilling out where it’s not supposed to. Wearing black with my straw-coloured hair and even paler complexion makes me look a bit peaky.
And hungover.
Which, of course,
