Jamie's Italian

I LOVE Jamie Oliver. Not in the way I love Russell Brand. Or Richard. Obviously. But in a deeper, more respectful, less lusty way than that…
I admire him. I admire his values and his work ethic. I admire his deeply personal commitment to affecting change and the despairing look he has been wearing through every episode of Jamies Dream School.
And today I went to his Liverpool restaurant to admire him at first hand. And ok so he wasn’t there. Obviously. Because I didn’t tell I was coming. But never mind because Kath was there. And Diane. And Emma. And little Ben. So let’s face it  who needs Jamie when one has one’s Mommy posse and a three year old scrumptious little mascot to boot?
It was my birthday you see. Well actually that’s a lie: it was my birthday on Monday, but we went out to celebrate it today because Finn has been sick and I have been tied to the sofa with him and Wednesday is the day work and mommy commitments are few and far between and we can all pile into the car and spend the morning swanning around Liverpool, shopping up a storm and burning up enough energy to warrant a rather lovely little meal in the Liverpool branch of Jamie’s Italian…
Twas lovely. You would have loved it. You too could have laughed at just how close I am to being forty. Howled at Kath’s filthy mouth (Yes. I know. She looks like butter wouldn’t melt doesn’t she??). Tutted at me as I had the table harassed into posing for my ipod for some oh so fuzzy photographic memorabilia, swooned over some Beautiful Bucatini Carbonara, received gifts of the Cath Kidston kind and drank tea of indeterminate leaf that was almost the best part of the entire gorgeous meal.
You would have loved it. I did. To such a degree my head got a little fuzzy and as we left I beamed at the pretty blonde waitress, and told her at two o’clock in the afternoon, thank you and goodnight.

Thank you and goodnight!