Ira’s Mum has made pancakes again. Yum. OK, they are more like scotch pancakes (so not called blinnay in Russian, but I’ve forgotten the word Ira told me earlier, and she is asleep right now), but I like both types equally. Anyway, I happen to know there are a few left on the kitchen table downstairs, so the next time I nip out (writing these posts in the bedroom) for a cigarette, think I’ll grab a couple I think at best diet pills are for those that feel the need to say no to midnight snacks That said, I’ve recently noticed that Anna can actually partially perch on my stomach when I’m sat up, so maybe I’ll just grab one pancake tonight.