We are slightly drink ‘n’ blog, so bear with me. Hic.
This has been a very camp day.
This afternoon I picked my daughter up from ballet and on the way home we walked past Iceland.
For those of you not familiar with the UK food retail scene, this is a very specific British supermarket chain, specialising in frozen food. It’s not exactly classy.
As we passed the doors, Peggy and I locked eyes.
‘Shall we go in?’ I said and she nodded.
The reason is I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here, which is sponsored by Iceland. (And I’m thrilled to see an Aussie version of the show is debuting on Australian TV next year, hosted by my very dear pal, Julia Morris http://tenplay.com.au/blog/the-insider/julia-morris-and-chris-brown-to-host-im-a-celebrity-get-me-out-of-here)
The UK version, filmed in Queensland, is our favourite reality show and in every ad break Peter Andre – who became properly famous in the UK after appearing on it in 2004 – waxes lyrical about Iceland snacks.
Such is the power of advertising, we have become obsessed with ‘Duck-in-Donuts’…. and in we went, convulsed with laughter, and bought them.
We also purchased the Bush Tucker Trials game for her to take to a friend’s house for a sleepover tonight.
Oh, how we laughed. It was so much fun and reminded me of the happy larks of my youth.
When we got home, I removed the Duck-in-Donuts from their packaging and submitted them to the 12 minutes at gas mark 6 advised on the packet.
How were they? As delicious as you would imagine tooth-rottingly sweet hoisin duck enrobed by sweet bagel dough to be. Very.
So that was this afternoon. This evening I went first to a surprise birthday party, which was the full shock deal, with my friend Lol, walking into the room to find his whole family and a flock of pals there.
Then I went to my friend Neil Mather’s 50th which was a Studio 54 party. It was just as much fun as that theme implies.
My golden moment was realising I had walked past my adored pal Tony (aka Squaddie Tony, husband of Derek Brown, mentioned last night) without recognising him… because he was wearing: a black satin basque, a black feather boa, large gauge fishnet tights, tiger pring budgie smugglers and leopard print high heels.
He looked faaaaaaaaaaaaabulous.
(Here he is, more normally attired.) What really made his look was that he had all that gear on, plus major eyeliner etc, with his cropped man’s hair do. It was as much Cabaret as Studio 54 and all the better for it.
Another highlight of the evening – apart from Neil’s ENORMOUS (disco) balls – was dancing with a friend of his who is a fully trained ballet dancer person. I wish I could remember his name, he’s from Melbourne. I’ll try and find out and post in future.
My husband has many qualities, but he doesn’t enjoy dancing, so it’s always heaven to be thrown around the floor by someone supremely confident. That chap made me feel like Ginger Rogers.
Now I’ve come home, finished off the remaining Duck-in-Donuts and must go to bed. Double hic.