…and so the long penury of life sans wife comes to an end after the absence of my betrothed for near on two weeks visiting her sister in Houston. The appeal of confit de canard straight from the tin with a side helping of oven chips only lasts so long - after twelve days I was longing for a radish (I’m sure there’s some kind of crude joke in there but my mind doesn’t work like that). To celebrate, a happy happy tune from the Edwin Hawkins Singers.

I think the zenith (some say apogee) of my junk food affliction was reached the year after I left university whan I was living in a shithole on the Walworth Road. My friend Guy Eaglesfield who also lived there was a huge fan of all things dip, snack and sandwich related - our greatest evenings were spent playing the A to Z game (not as interesting as it sounds) feasting on toast topped with instant mash, ketchup and sprinkled with bombay mix served with a magnuim of ice cold Thunderbird.

My memory of my one visit to Houston does not fill me with great longing and regret although my wife seems to have had a good time….all Texans it would seem are either ferociously fit ot fantastically fat, extremes to which I can relate….well, at least one of them. It wasn’t however just an orgy of cowboy boot and bootlace tie purchasing, there was also a visit to the Rothko Chapel (see left ) Even though this piece isn’t actually by Rothko (go here for more info in the obelisk should you wish) They also went to the Modern Art museum and saw the Damien Hirst stained glass piece composed entirely of butterfly wings - she managed to snap a snap of this before some guard tried to haul her off to Gitmo (not a euphemism).

….who says americans have no culture….what do you mean Damien Hirst is English….I hardly see the relevance.

Next week then, sees a return to salads and jogging before the potential excite-fest of Nef next weekend, althoug that being said (and it is a tad further to go) the ‘End of the Road Festival’ in Dorset in September looks to have pretty spectacular line up.