|Really? I can't eat the pillows?|
I must apologize for the lack of blogging but there is a lot happening here.
Apart from staring in horrified fascination at the antics of the Trumpinator I also spend an extraordinary amount of time retrieving articles of apparel from the dog’s mouth.
There was something of a minor triumph when I cooked dinner for our local relatives on Saturday night and everything turned out just right. We had roast lamb, honey mustard chicken, honey baked ham, baked vegetables with Australian native spices, Brussels sprouts with crispy bacon and parmesan green beans.
Last time these people came to our house I cremated the chicken - and the top fell off the spice jar - and the vegetables were buried in it. Ghastly meal.
We are going to their house for Christmas dinner and I am taking the vegetables. But I will not be cooking them so there is not much that can go wrong at my end.
We are having our Christmas dinner on Christmas eve. I am also apparently doing the vegetables for this. I like to try to stay out of the kitchen at Christmas because it can get a bit ugly until everybody has had a glass or two of fine wine and is feeling a nice warm glow for their fellow humans.
Gwenyth is going to make a Pavlova and may do some lamingtons.
Cate gave me her shopping list and I think I have everything. I narrowly averted a minor catastrophe when I asked what she was going to with 3 ½ pounds of peas – but they turned put to be pears.
It still sounds like a lot of pears to me.