Tesco. Friday Night. Eleven Thrity Pee Hem.

I've found that now I have overcome the hurdle of escaping my duvet fort the world is, apparently, at my feet.

Naturally, at a late hour on a Friday evening the most logical thing to do with my new found freedom seemed to be to go to Tesco. I bought a veritable treasure chest of items in my excitement to be rid of the Cabin Fever; these included 2 notebooks, 3 jotter pads, an assortment of clickable biros, far too much orange squash, The Guardian, The Independent (got both wings covered there, phew) and a packet of chocolate fudge brownies (Weight Watchers' unfortunately). All was going swimmingly up until I arrived home and spread out my purchases with glee at which point I examined one of the boxes in a new light...

...Bugger. Lent. Chocolate not permitted.

Needless to say I've spent the last ten minutes staring at said sliced temptations willing them to morph into shortbread or something else I can allow myself to consume. I think I'll start furiously eating the peanuts instead.

Perhaps I can even persuade the cat to eat them. Excellent. I'll round off celebrating my freedom by chasing the cat with a box of brownies.

Just another friday night chez franglaise.