"
Hello one and All
It has been some time since I put pen to paper or rather words to computer screen, but here I am now. For those of you who suffer from withdrawal symptoms, I must apologise and can only offer you an Auntie Esther Group Hug and a “Get-A-Life” tee-shirt.
Well, the school holidays this time has certainly sped by. It’s Thursday already and I still have food in my fridge and freezer. My cupboards are not filled with crumbs and rat droppings – and I still have a few rolls of toilet paper left. Then again the only reason for still having supplies in the house is that the children have spent some time away. And no, I did not get all distressed and fraught because they were not inhaling my quota of oxygen and in my face all the time.
Actually, I relished the fact that I could have some “me” time and also that I did not have to slave over the blasted cooker or oven for more than once a day. When I am on my own I am quite happy to have a smoothie in the morning, some brazil nuts and fruit as nibbles during the day and a tin of sardine with rice for dinner. Done. There is no-one hollering in my ears every three hours that “I’m hungreee mumeeee”, trying to raise my blood pressure and getting me vex, as I work out how to feed to hungry boys whilst making the food last for a whole week. This 3 times a day cooking thing is not funny.
Back in the day – my mother used to have 3 cooked meals ready with baking of bread and cake in between. We were never hungry. Actually we never voiced we were hungry, because we knew where the swelling would be. And my mother and father made the cooking thing look so effortless, whereas MOI, I am vex from after preparing breakfast.
I can quite clearly understand where the food is going though as my youngest son who is 12 years old is 11 ½ stone, 5ft 8 and in a size 10 ½ shoe. Can you imagine? (It’s ok, don’t even try – you might get brain damage). I am only 5ft 3 – I used to be 5ft 4 but somehow gravity took a dislike to me. Anyway, I believe there is something called PLATYPUS vitamins or YETI steroids those others are hiding in our food. Soon he’ll be in a size 15 shoe and what would I do then? I certainly could not afford to buy him more than 1 pair of shoes a year and at that, think of the cost? My heart laments, I tell you. I’d have to get a third job selling peanuts on London Bridge.
Just think, one kick from those feet and you’re dead before you land, believe. Size 10 and a half?
But on the whole I have done well. There are some frozen veg, two packets of cous cous, a few packets of Jacobs cream crackers, a tap full of water and two tubs of butter still left with a few other odd bits and pieces, so I guess if things did get a little tough around here and all else failed, crackers, a bit of butter and a jug of water would have to keep the hunger pangs at bay until I hit Tesco’s at some point.
