So how was your weekend? Relaxing? Sociable? Productive?
Or maybe like mine – slightly deranged.
- Friday night: make ratatouille bake for dinner. After dinner, wrestle washing machine away from wall to unplug it. Absolutely horrified at the dirt and spiderwebs behind it. Attempt to find tools described by absentee husband in drawer and cupboard – no luck. Do I look like I know what a fixing spanner is?? Give up, perv at Brandon Flowers watch The Killers perform live on Later with Jools Holland. Spend 15 mins on phone to dear friend discussing said performance, then head for bed.
- Saturday: up at the crack of dawn to continue Sisyphean task of preparing washing machine for departure. Manage to identify Philips screwdriver and detach outflow pipe from its bracket and the drainage pipe, empty remaining water in the pipe into a bucket. Very proud of self! Delivery men arrive with new machine, attempt to shut off water in both inlet pipes, but only the one can shut off. Delivery men shrug, deposit new machine in my lounge still in wrapping; leave old machine in the centre of my kitchen floor, still connected to the cold water supply and leave, thoughtfully bumping over aforementioned bucket of water. Water under all major appliances, cupboards and stove unable to open due to relocated washing machine; no washing facilities despite two machines in house. Newly-visible patch of 9+ years of assorted grottiness under washing machine now clearly visible and making my stomach turn, so spend rest of afternoon on haunches, squeezed between stove and old machine, scrubbing floor. Wrestle machine (mostly) back in under a counter. Ponder how a slipped disc might feel.
- Saturday night: pack bag, bid farewell to both washing machines and meet Johanna for our catering gig. Spend the evening helping to make a few hundred pieces of canape and staring enviously at host’s working washing machine. Afterwards, head for Johanna‘s place where we make ourselves a round of canapes, crack open the champagne and proceed to talk, play Kill Shag Marry, and laugh uproariously till 3 a.m. while husband and children sleep upstairs. The wild women of the suburbs.
- Sunday: head home after a leisurely breakfast and attempt to tidy house in anticipation of a dinner party at home on Monday night. Rudely interrupted by neighbour who wants to have my beloved ornamental cherry tree at the bottom of the garden cut down. Manage somehow to hold my tongue while he explains to me that the fallen leaves from the tree are damaging the tarmac on the other side of my fence (WTF??) and that all the subsidence in the area is caused not by the clay soil, but by the evil trees which should mostly be cut down. I’m flypaper for freaks.
So in future when people ask me “so do you ever cook, like, normal food?” I am going to refer them to this post and ask if they really think there was space in there somewhere for a granita, a foam or a souffle. So “normal” food it was – enjoy it! Just don’t mess on the tablecloth because I can’t wash it till I get a plumber to make a housecall…!
SCRAMBLED EGGS WITH SUN-DRIED TOMATOES & PARMESAN (serves 2)
2 slices wholewheat bread, toasted
4 large free-range eggs
50 ml milk or single cream
6-8 sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
salt and pepper
Parmesan shavings to serve
Chop the sun-dried tomatoes and soak in a little boiling water for 5 minutes. Drain.
Whisk together the eggs, milk, tomatoes, and salt and pepper. Over medium heat, melt a knob of butter in a heavy-bottomed frying pan until it is bubbling.
Add the egg mix to the pan and stir continuously until the eggs start to set. Make toast in the meantime. When the eggs are almost set but still a little runny, remove the pan from the heat (the eggs will continue to cook, so you need to get them off the heat slightly runny).
Spread the toast with some good mayonnaise and top with the scrambled eggs. Finish off with Parmesan shavings and parsley to garnish.
Follow me every day in November as I complete National Blog Posting Month – a post a day, every day, for 30 days! Here’s what I’ve written so far.