Tuesday, 15 March 2016

Never ever...

Words from a Bird.   Day 75

So the visitors keep appearing.....one lot turned up with the most amazing cakes today.  I forgave them the fact that they hadn't really come to see me at all, especially once I had polished off a Raspberry Mousse Sponge, a Rum Latte Ganache and half a Lemon Cheesecake, all made by my friend's son. 

In defence of my gluttony, these measured approximately 3" square, so were more the size of those miniature puddings which get handed round on a large platter at Christmas parties.  I think it's perfectly acceptable to cram at least twenty of these in at one sitting (or standing I suppose, more accurately).

Daughters number 1 and 2 are both in residence tonight.  The older one is cooking dinner for us.  It is on occasions like this that I tend to vacate the kitchen.  Not because I have any doubts as to her cooking prowess (she's much better than me) but I struggle with the sight of every knife, chopping board and saucepan I possess being used.  The husband has promised her that I will be clearing up and loading the dishwasher after dinner. 

The soon to be ex-husband is a brave man....

Daughter number 2 has an important interview all day tomorrow, so is home to prepare a presentation and practise interview questions.  I did offer my assistance on preparing the presentation. As a woman of the world, I always feel I have something to impart to my offspring.

'What's the presentation about?'  I asked.

When she told me, I had to rescind my offer of help.  I am ashamed to confess that Inventory Management has not played a big part in my various jobs to date.  I did wonder whether these were posh words for making sure you have enough milk in the fridge.  Well apparently, yes. 

After three days of skirting around each other like Muhammad Ali and George Foreman, (not so much the Rumble in the Jungle, more the Brawl on the Lawn) Percy and Reg continue to chip away at each other's resentment.  A small skirmish by the oil tank is all to report today, and as I write, they are both curled up at my feet, looking like a mismatched pair of novelty schnauzer slippers.

A truce has been called.  Both between the dogs, and the husband and I.

Of course, there are always conditions where a truce is concerned.  For the dogs, it's an agreement not to pinch each other's toys or food. 

For the husband, there is only one condition.......to never to offer my services for anything, to anyone, at any time.


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