Blind Date. See, Mum? The posh don’t care. And then there are those who don’t give a damn whatever their class. When I discovered that Beryl Bainbridge wrote novels in her nightie, wearing gloves and smoking fags and having fried eggs for lunch, I thought anything was fine, frankly.I took to TV dinners when I was a TV producer.
The hours were so long there never seemed to be enough time to eat and then watch the telly afterwards. ER and Thirtysomething were consumed from the sofa accompanied by big bowls of spaghetti tossed with olive oil, garlic, chilli flakes and chopped parsley.It’s surprising to think that the French – so conservative in matters of the table – are also happy to munch away in front of the screen, though the family I au.
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