Yes it’s that suspiciously auspicious date again.
Lately I’ve taken to wearing an Apron. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t, I think it’s a distinguished label and a feature of modern dress especially when one is down at the Doctor’s surgery, or out supermarket shopping or even, even…. at home cooking.
Lately I’ve taken to cooking. I don’t think it’s really my natural environment but I thought whilst I’m young I should learn how to do these domesticaterised tasks like vacuumerising, washerating and cookin’ victuals. Well, Jane’s busy with University and William is busy being Duty Manager and other stuff so I realised that if I wanted to eat I’d better get to grips with a can opener, so…
I consulted a few cookbooks:
Am I enjoying my new skills? I think I am but I’m a bit slow in the kitchen – I’m like a drunken snail with a broken leg making its way to a French restaurant. I have to read recipes about 28 times because I keep forgetting what I’ve just read. I said I keep forgetting what I’ve just read, so when a recipe calls for a slug of Brandy it’s likely to get more than one. I’m also getting deaf (or so I’m told). I don’t think I am and when my Doctor said “can you describe the symptoms?” I replied “Homers a fat bugger, and Marge has blue hair.” So I’m fine.