Yesterday I wore bright blue socks with pictures of robots on them under a pair of comfortable yet beaten brown shoes, blue jeans, well they were once blue now they are now grey/blue with ragged hems, and a four year old black shirt with a flowery print on it that is at least one size too small to cover the drumlin like dome that is my portly shame. The whole ensemble was topped of with a bally black sweater that may or may not have had toothpaste on it. The stain was never identified due to lack of interest on my behalf. There was no belt employed to keep the jeans over my posterior not because I was making some sort of statement but due rather to forgetfulness. This came back to haunt, not me, but the young woman who happened to walk past me whilst I was bent over in Tescos groping about for a fresh loaf of bread.

My style, for want of a better word, could be described as middle aged gardener chic.

I'm telling you this because of my recent appearance in The Sunday Times Style Magazine. That's right The Style Magazine, not the food section not the tragic lives section nor the obituaries nor even the fat ones to watch out for section. The Times has a Fat Ones to Watch Out for section right? Obviously they chose me as I am a stylish man about town, heh. I mean the way I walk with a slight stoop and the ever so stylish way my sweaters lift to reveal my hairy largess must have impressed somebody right?

Or maybe not.

I was more than a touched chuffed to come home from another Sunday afternoon at work, a day mostly spent gossiping with Waiter Chum the Younger and occasional plate schlepping, and find a comment on the blog from chum Medbh that read, "Manuel, your blog’s featured in the Sunday Times Style mag section on Irish foodie blogs. Yay!"

Yay indeed. I yay'd for an age until Little Miss Manuel arrived in with the papers only to find that it wasn't in the bloody Norther edition and only in the southern edition. Why must there be two editions for such a small island? Why Rupert? Why? What are you trying to hide from us?

Anyhoo, Medbh was kind enough to send me it.

And here it is...

Obviously I had to google, "acerbic" just to make sure it wasn't college talk for fat. I am, as I'm sure you understand very chuffed about this. They're right, your second mention in the Sunday Times is so much better than your first. Thanks to whoever saw fit to include me, your soup shall be spit free and all sarcastic comments about your choice of wine will be withheld.

Heh...