I am Human

But Cornish Pasties are gods...

Last night mum ate a big one, wanted seconds, and got it. As she smashed it I came to the conclusion that my fat pasties, made with lean Irish beef, turnips, onions, tatties, butter and lard were
essential especially for the sick elderly.

And the English Bedfordshire Clangers made mincemeat out of Ukraine.

So last night was wickedly scrummy.

Not only did Reg and I do a double take when mum held out her plate 'Oliver' fashion but The Roone headed one in.
Tuesdays's don't come more interesting than that.


Today:
Just now.
Dressed disturbingly untidy I drove Mr H to waiting train>>>>>>>>>>>>then was transfixed to the gruesome hall carpet as mum quickly walked without aids to the kitchen where she sat down at the table like a normal breakfasting person asking where we were going today and where was her free range egg.

Looks like Wednesday will be fabulous!