A text came at 7.00 yesterday morning, informing me that Stephen would be knocking on my door sometime before 9.00 with the new washing machine. Unfortunately, because my phone was on silent, I didn't wake up till 8.15 when Reg decided to remodel himself as a new hat on my comatose head. Looking at my phone through schnauzer fur, I realised that I was cutting it a bit fine. 'Just throw your dressing gown on and let him in through the garage', suggested the husband helpfully. Does he know me at all? I had to get dressed, do my hair, stick mascara on (can't let anyone see me without mascara, except Mrs S when we swim) and sort the utility room out to make space for the new washer.
I must have made the husband feel guilty, as he headed down to help me. He'd even found time to get some clothes on which was a plus. He pulled the old machine out, leaving me with the pink job of cleaning the dirtiest square of floor I have ever seen. The husband thought it very funny to mutter 'Dirty cow' at me as I scrubbed the floor - this is something he may come to regret...
Stephen, who obviously didn't get the same text that I did, tipped up around 9.30. By 9.49, I had my first wash on, and sanity was restored.
You'll remember from yesterday's ramblings, that the husband and I were alone this weekend for the first time in many months. So we found time to do lots of exciting things together. We did a Tesco shop, got a punctured tyre repaired, ate a jacket potato lunch and tried and failed to get a phone upgrade. So all in all, a successful day. It didn't really matter what we were doing, it was just lovely being together for the day.
I have to take you back to yesterday morning though, well before the washing machine turned up. I, like many other ladies, have a second freezer in the garage. This is full of stuff which has been demoted from the kitchen freezer, as it's unlikely any of it will ever get eaten. Mine is filled with half baked bread (leftover from Christmas, and redcurrants which I picked two years ago with a plan to make redcurrant jelly). I had been looking in the freezer for sliced bread yesterday morning, when a carcass caught my eye. It looked like half a sheep, was in a large freezer bag and had a whole shelf to itself.
Bringing it into the kitchen, I asked the husband if he knew what it was. Well it turned out to be a shoulder of lamb with a leg attached courtesy of a butchery afternoon he did a few months ago, so we decided to put it into the oven and slow cook it all day. It was necessary to tilt the leg into a high kick to get the damn thing into the oven, but having got it in (some brute force was necessary to get the oven door shut) we left it to its own devices all day.
Unfortunately, only son number two came back for dinner last night, and as the husband hauled the two square feet of sheep out of the oven, I anticipated the many ways I could use the meat this coming week, as there was enough there to feed about twenty people. Tagine, koftas, Shepherd's Pie (with peas) all flashed through my mind as the husband dished up.
Lucky I like lamb really...