i choose today to start writing to you and am almost heartened to find myself echoed on your page as you fly back from America to an empty fridge. Instead of throwing things together from nothing to come out with a gourmet treat you decide to phone out for pizza and beer - a wise choice; why should a top chef always be singing and dancing for others delight?
Back home i'm looking at a small piece of cold chicken and considering my offspring - a fairly amenable sixteen year old boy and two little girls who eye everything new with suspicion, prefering to starve indefinitely if need be.I think it will have to be fajitas for Tom and i and something slimy out of a tin, covered in a tomato sauce, for the little ones. We did make our Christmas Pudding last night; them weighing out and mixing all the ingredients. Molly dipped her spoon into the rum because it looked like water. i think she was too embarrassed to make a fuss about the taste - either that or a i have a potential four year old alchie on my hands. Perhaps i shall have to start drawing lines on the bottles, all too accessable beside the fridge?