You call your only offspring Oliver and you think it would be his duty to love food, glorious food. Nope, he decides to love musicals instead occasionally telling people he was named after one. Go figure. If I wasn't there when he was born I might think we were not related. The only one demanding "more" is me. So Drama Teen turned down my kind invitation to walk down to the noodle markets at South Bank which will pack up for the year after this weekend. Only the fur child, who I am pretty sure shares no DNA, was up to the challenge. Their loss. Of course the diet means I could look but not touch walking away with only photos, smells and the 14,285 steps I need to meet my daily fitness goal. I'll take that.
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