By: Blonde Two

I have a recipe for you.  I don’t really recommend that you try it but in the (very unlikely) occurrence of you needing to, here it is;

One very keen Blonde (suitably matured)

23 best laid plans (mice and men optional)

4 different route options (soaked in rain for six hours)

A pinch of atrocious weather (preferably from the South West)

A splash of over eager bravado (expensive but worth every penny)

A teaspoon of Blonde flavour (available soon from a Dartmoor cafe near you)

20 Jelly Babies (pick out the Yellows first)

Cook all of this up in a large quandary for around 48 hours.  When the consistency of the Blonde is similar to soggy jelly and she is just about to burst at the seams, make a decision.  Take the plans and route options out of the quandary and put them back into a purple folder.  The remaining broth should taste about the same as anything else that your mother said was “good for you”.

Nom, yom, slurp, burp … “What is that?” I hear you say.  That, my dear Blondees and Blondettes is the sound of a Blonde (who is not going to Dartmoor today) eating her words.