God save the Queen...

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Well, I don't know about you, but I am completely pomped out.  I've laughed, cried and cheered (that was just trying to decide what to wear to Friday's Street Party) and like most people in this green and pleasant land, have found the last four days both emotional and inspirational.   

Our weekends haver probably gone down the same route...

Red, white and blue, alcohol, sunshine, bunting, alcohol, paper plates, curly (or soggy, depending on which day you celebrated) sandwiches, alcohol, scones, double cream ( no clotted cream to be found in the Home Counties since the end of May) and of course, the celebratory chocolate caterpillar cake which I mentioned last week.

We did our party on Friday, so managed to celebrate in the sunshine.  It was obvious as we were setting up that the caterpillar cake had nada in the way of staying power, as the corgi's ears were beginning to show signs of Jubilee Droop (something we are all suffering from this morning I'm sure).

'I'll take that back inside and leave it in the fridge till we are ready to decapitate the queen', said the husband, risking a life in the Tower with that comment.

So it has resided there through the entire street party, a hangover, two days in Leeds visiting son number two and a wet Monday morning.  It was only when I was making breakfast earlier today that I realised that the poor cakes had missed their special day.  What are we to do with them now I wondered.  They weren't going to make it to the next Jubilee.  In fact, the eat by date is today, such was the confidence of the M&S bakers that they'd be eaten at the correct time.

There's something very unsettling about eating something at inappropriate times.  For example, have you ever eaten a mince pie before November?  Or a Crème Egg in July?  It's  just not right.

Having sorted breakfast out, I realised that there was no salad left in the fridge, as we had taken it all up to son number two's in the vague hope that there might be something to eat while we were up there (on my last visit, I survived on half a packet of his lodger's digestive biscuits which wasn't brilliant).  

So what am I to have for my lunch?

I'm not proud ladies, but in the absence of a plum tomato, that corgi's getting it...



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