Every time I restart my blog I always feel it’s a good time to reflect on the past, to look to the future and interact with my adoring fans and maybe get their [*altered to make me sound good before republishing] opinions on things.
Over the years (no really it has now been YEARS) those questions have ranged from Am I doing okay with this? and What do you think of this design? and Am I really so lonely and fucked up that I need to seek attention in this way? To these you have mostly given the same answer, Shut the fuck up you fat beardy fuck and just get on with it will you.
But, despite your advice, a few nights ago three questions struck me, big questions too, and though I have resisted up until now, I have to ask.
You see I love custard. I mean I really fucking love custard. Nothing beats a good 20 litre bowl-full of thick, sugary custard to make my day complete.
I don’t eat custard every day but I could and would if I didn’t think all that yellow food dye would turn me into a Homer Simpson.
I love custard so much that I would generally send the kids to bed, without any pudding, before I will put a pan on and get some custard going. It’s even better if the Missus goes out too, so I am happy to babysit if it means a pan of custard to myself.
So my questions are:
- Is it wrong for a 30.85 year old man to love custard as much as I do?
- Do you love custard, or know anyone else, who loves custard as much as I do?
- Hands up who likes the skin you get when you put custard in the fridge overnight?
(
)
