We arrived back here from Reading this afternoon, having popped down for a couple of days to check on things – and all is well there. I mentioned, a few months ago, that Tim was off the road for a while, so I’m in the driving seat for a few weeks yet. Since he’s had the medical all clear, he hopes to be able to reclaim his car soon, though. I’ll be driving it next time though, heh heh. I’d never driven a car that is quite so zingy as that before.
We had pancakes for dinner, it being Shrove Tuesday. Tim wondered, why pancakes? We know all about Lent and having to use all the good things up beforehand, but pancakes aren’t really such rich food, so we’re not sure why they’ve become so traditional. I suggested that we have savoury pancake to start with, followed by one with sugar and lemon juice. I topped the savoury one with onion, tomato and cheese, in the Dutch style. It was good, the only downside being that I cooked each one separately, so Tim had to start without me. As I was cooking his second pancake, I asked if he wanted to toss it. I’d be afraid to, he said, even my dad didn’t do that.
His father, he said, was the pancake cooker in his family. He didn’t do any other cooking, so isn’t sure how that tradition came about, though his elder sister might know. I said, we had a pancake tradition in my childhood family too. They were ignored. I never had a pancake in my life, I don’t think, until after I was married. If I did, neither of my parents made them. I didn’t feel it as an awful loss, though, I don’t think.
The conversation moved on, as these things do, from the New to the Old Testament, and then on to Greek and Roman myths and histories, and thence to Latin O Levels and then to our education generally. Now it’s nearly ten o’clock and we’ve only just left the dining table. And it won’t be too long before I’m in bed, I daresay.