Hot, hot, hot...
So the celebrations have continued. The husband and I were invited down to Mr and Mrs H's house for dinner on Saturday. Now Mrs H is a wonderful Italian lady, well versed in the serving up of delicious Italian fare. Surprisingly, we had homemade curry this time. There were two choices. One was 'mild and coconutty' (not too sure if that is a proper word), and another which was 'a little spicy'. Now I should have known that the description of 'little' is relative. To me, anything hotter than a Korma is dangerous, whereas the husband will munch through a vindaloo and complain that it's bland. So when the husband said to me that it wasn't too spicy, I thought, 'What's the worst that could happen?' I should say that by this time I had knocked back several glasses of Prosecco, so any decision was marred by the addition of alcohol. I spooned some onto my plate, liberally covering it with raita and the coconutty one (I'm sure that