Most Peculiar, Momma

Mrs. Treaclechops is off gallivanting down in Hampshire for the next week-or-so, spending time with her sister and niece. No problem… I’m a modern man who can fend for himself and cook and clean like the best of ‘em. Mind you, I cooked salmon for my Friday night meal and burnt the parsley sauce. Again, no problem… the salmon started off as unsmoked, but ended up with an evocative smoky, cokey, choky flavour.

I spent Saturday morning winemaking and tickling up my poetry collection (doesn’t everybody?) Late morning, grandson Robbie turned up and declared he’d come to keep me company and save me from being on my own. His repeated afternoon raids on the contents of the fridge suggested he may have had ulterior motives. Anyroadup… he disappeared for a short while on a shopping trip with his mum and returned late afternoon for tea. I cooked spaghetti bolognaise which he sort-of enjoyed, but admitted he’d never previously had red peppers in this dish. After he assured himself I was Ok, he left and promised to look in on Monday afternoon after school. I must stock up the fridge in readiness.

On Sunday morning, I’ll team up with sister, Maureen, and brother-in-law, Keith. We’ll visit our auld mum in her care home. She’s not handling extreme old age too well. Sad old world.

What to do on Sunday afternoon? I still have to perfect marmalade making… and I have all the ingredients necessary to make a heady batch of Christmas chutney. The forecast speaks of a sunny day with temperature in the high teens Celsius (Centigrade)… I still have about 50 daffodils bulbs to plant… or I might wander round the Arrow Valley with camera in hand.

Nobody told me there’d be days like these… strange days indeed… most peculiar, Momma!