Mother’s day, so all my children phoned me. And I had a card from Ro, drawn by Rufus with the caption “Love you Granny xxx” at which I melted, of course. We are all very much looking forward to seeing each other again, but it’ll be a fortnight yet before that’s okayed.
There’s a website/Facebook page called ‘overheard in Waitrose.’ A friend reposted a picture of a bag of mangetout from Tesco. The caption was “My mom called these ‘Man Get Out’ and I’ve been crying since.” I’ve been giggling ever since, I will never call them (snow peas, if you’re over the waters, and the joke doesn’t work) anything else ever again.
Tonight, we had a perfect roast chicken. I claim little credit, it was a free-range Suffolk bird (from Sutton Hoo), I covered the breast with rashers of local Tamworth bacon and just roasted it, with garlic, butter and lemon pushed inside, the potatoes were roasted in the fat from the (local) lamb chops from a couple of nights ago. It was fabulous, even though the cat rejected it. I ran out of her regular food last week and had to stock up at the supermarket (I’m sorry to say that Evil Amazon gets a bimonthly order) and she adores the food that I bought there. It’s just that she’s loving the change, I hope, or else I’ll have to cancel Amazon and pay for small quantities at double price.