I’m finding it hard to concentrate right now, mainly due to the fact that I’ve eaten so much I feel like my stomach may erupt at some point during this sentence. Nope, I made it.

We’ve lived in this house for about 18 months now, and we’re still appallingly bad at doing the shopping; our cupboards tend to be very well stocked with soup and sweetcorn but nothing else, it’s almost impressive how little food we have at times. This often means we’ll have takeaways. Delicious, delicious takeaways.

So, tonight we had a curry, and it was lovely, though I find the problem with takeaway curry is that I’m stubborn and refuse to leave any. Take tonight for example, after finishing my onion bhaji and a poppadom (with the weird dip thing that I still have no clue what it is), I began eating my Madras. It was about a third of the way through it that I realised I was full, and I don’t mean, “I feel like I’ve eaten an adequate amount” full, I mean, “Oh, sweet Jesus, I will die if I eat any more” full.

So I finished it, and now I’m going to die. Yes, I’ve said this before – every time we have a curry, in fact – but I’m sure of it this time, it’s not possible to be this full without suffering from minor death at least. So, thank you for reading, you’ve all been wonderful. I’m going to lie down now and go out like I knew I always would: in an explosion of madras and naan bread. Beautiful.

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