I had planned on getting rid of all my house guests around lunchtime today. What I didn't allow for was my mouth opening of its own accord, and asking everyone whether they fancied a big family roast lunch today. Now my roasts are legendary (modest, aren't I?) and Mrs W and Mr G jumped at the chance. Son number one, who informed me that he would now be staying till Tuesday, saw an opportunity to feed himself up with so much food that he would no longer be able to bend in the middle, and the husband's eyes just glazed over. He was probably picturing my cauliflower cheese which has this effect on him every time.
So I headed into town yesterday morning to get pork and beef as no one could agree on just one type of meat for lunch. The general consensus by all except son number two, was that as long as it wasn't chicken, they didn't mind. Bearing this in mind, I then suggested pork, at which point son number one said that he didn't like pork either. Which is why I bought two joints, one of which had to be pork, because it is the husband's favourite, and it is his birthday after all.
I decided to buy the meat from the local butcher as it was a bit of a special occasion. Perhaps if I'd known how 'special' the price was, I might have gone to the downmarket supermarket up the road, but £30 poorer, the meat was bought. I then went into the Farmers' Market in the old cinema, and stocked up on vegetables. As I was paying, I said to the stall holder that I assumed he had run out of parsnips. Gesturing with one of the leeks I had picked up, he waved it in the direction of a box. 'No madam, There are plenty in that box down there. You can't miss it. It's the one with PARSNIPS written in big capital letters on the front'. Mmmm, just what you need on a Saturday morning, a sarcastic parsnip seller. Laden down with a cauliflower, five leeks, a red cabbage and now four parsnips also, I struggled back to the car and returned home for a well earned cup of tea and a small power nap before the evening's festivities.
It was relatively quiet at home, as Mrs W and Mr G had gone off to see some fancy stately home just down the road. They have National Trust membership which allows them to poke round people's lounges commenting on their terrible taste in wallpaper. I don't know what their membership costs, but I would have given them a lovely tour of number 35, including the garage and allotment, for not much more than a couple of quid where they could have done much the same. I could just imagine leading them into the kitchen, and telling them that 'nothing much ever happens in there as the lady of the house downed tools some time ago'.
So it will be a quiet lunch today after last night's party celebrations. I shall have to muffle the crackling when I cut it up, as it could wreak havoc on the hangovers which will be a-plenty...