Information on Body Waxing…

Pat, you’ve made me homesick again – I’d love a long walk in the wind and rain about now. Only I’d have Campbell’s Cream of Tomato with my tea and toast.

Kara, I’m thinking Angelina Jolie – I don’t think there are many circumstances in which she could possibly fail to pout.

Ah, Conan, that’s beautiful. Would you have a flotilla of family members in dinghies to ensure your gondola doesn’t get snagged on any rocks?

Doccie, I see you’ve dined in the Caberfeidh Hotel in Stornoway before now. But think of the environment before you rev up your cream Maseratti for your final spin in the country! Wouldn’t it be more earth-friendly to go in a hydrogen-powered veehickle? You could always put a Maseratti shell on it.

Jali, you’re right of course. And a genius. Absinthe! Of course – it’s perfect! You are wasted in your current job, do you hear me – wasted! You need to become a discreet Appropriate Alcohol Adviser to the rich and famous so they’re never caught looking anything other than supremely cool with their beverages. I bow to you.

Jen, huzzah – lets hear it for the alive! And the wine-drinkers! And let the wine-drinkers come in numbers unto our Jester!

Absinthe. That’s my prescription for my personal day of the dead.

I would like the classic.

Prawn Cocktail
Sirloin Steak with roast and mash potatoes (chef’s veg selection)
Black Forest Gatux with fresh double cream

Then lay me down to die in a cream Maseratti dowsed in petrol and drive it off Coire an t’Sneachta.

I can’t imagine anyone better than Leonard Cohen when it comes to really doing one proud at a funeral: almost all of his songs have that wonderful, dirge-like quality, but they’re all real crackers. I could listen to him 24-7, and for some reason, his music does not depress. At my own funeral, though, I want Diana Jones playing full blast: “That Better Day.” I can picture that my kids will sing along lustily.

fmc, buttery toast is very fine, I have to agree, but I think the moat arrangement would cause uneven cooling of the beans in relation to the steaming mashed potato fortress. I’d make it a baked bean’n'mash volcano because that way all of the delicious tomatoey sauce is absorbed by the potato and none gets left congealing on the edge of the plate. I think I might have to have a rum baba too. And some very sharp cheddar. Oooh, and a herring fried in oatmeal and/or a kipper and potatoes. I could go on. Hot chocolate definitely.

Gimme, children’s lit. authors are the worst, they say. Complete junkies too, most of ‘em.

Randall – beef jerky?? Beef jerky, man? You want to depart this world on the back of beef jerky? When there are succulent garlicky scallops and raspberry brandy trifles in the world? Not to mention cod and chips! Be good to your family as they bid you farewell – insist on Miller Lite at the very least!

Mary, what’s fugu like? Isn’t fugu an acronym for fatally unhealthy gastronomic unusuality? You’re a brave woman. The only fish I eat are ones which don’t have the ability to morph into spiny spheres of death.

Mungo, well, I guess it would depend on what bit you were going for. Most women for example love to have their elbows gently nibbled on whilst watching current affairs programming by the BBC. Not a lot of men know that.

JenPen – did you say feasted on boiled wheat? Don’t you mean force-fed? What specific boiling practice was used for the wheat? Because unless it’s steamed according to the Fosby method, baby, you ain’t got no feast. I am almost as incredulous at you as I am at Randall and his beef jerky last meal. What of pan-seared morels and rosemary trout? What of rhubarb and custard? Tradition be damned – go with the steak!

Carolyn – I guess I just like the bottle more than anything. I’m a marketing manager’s dream, me. Sucker for a purdy bottle. I’m going to forget you said Justin Timberlake. It won’t be easy but that’s what friends do for one another.

Medbh, I want to depart the coil a little the better for a beverage too. It ought to be slightly surreal, dying, oughtn’t it? I mean if you get the chance to plan it. I wouldn’t go out to Sinead although that’s a pithy song to depart on. I’ve always been fond of “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head.” Prolly have to go with Lenny Cohen though. Just to keep the mood light for the crowds and crowds of weeping mourners I expect will show up.