Fish and chip Friday; syrup sponge and custard

A brief review today as it’s late, I still have at least one email to send, and I’m quite keen to take my evening pain meds having missed them yesterday.

The first needs no real explanation: time is something innately understood by everyone except very young children and the world’s most advanced physicists.

The email is to arrange for mum to go to church on Sunday, after I had had enough of the repeated tearful discussion about why the people at church had forgotten her because no-one had been in touch to offer her a lift. I’m now in contact with the church’s super-organised secretary and we will be setting up a rota, after which I will just have to contend with making phone calls to near strangers on the Sundays that mum decides she doesn’t want to go after all.¹

The pain meds are a long and convoluted story that involved multiple phone calls, a lot of time listening to holding music (which I strongly suspect will haunt my dreams tonight), several uses of the dispiriting phrase “I don’t know who told you that, but…”, and an eventual act of kindness by someone who decided to disregard company rules in order to help a stranger, and to whom I am extremely grateful.

It was Friday today and I therefore decided to bring fish and chip Friday home. The fish was salt and pepper basa fillets from (I think – the box has long since gone into the recycling bin and I’m not going out in the cold to check) Young’s. Mum liked them a lot; I thought the fish was a bit dry and the coating a bit soggy, but the flavour was good. The chips were a little undercooked for my taste – I like them really crispy – but still good under a snowfall of salt. There wasn’t as much salad as I would have liked, but was what was left in the bag divided between my plate and mum’s, so it is what it is.

The sponge pudding was one of those individual sized ones which you stick in the microwave for 30 seconds then burn your fingers taking out. It was one-note sweet, sticky on top and fluffy underneath, and, accompanied by a large mug of decaff coffee (strong, black, no sugar), exactly what I needed after a stressful day.

Now I’m lying on my bed, about to hit publish after the most cursory of proofreading of this post, and will then relax with my current obsessions of a mug of hot Ribena and several levels of the tower defence game on my phone.

Oh, I need to do that email, don’t I? Ah, sod it, it can wait until tomorrow.²

1. And the current topic of worry, which is that the new edition her beloved Radio Times magazine, which she gets through the post, hasn’t arrived yet, and how will she know what’s on television? ↩︎
2. If you’ve ever wondered how my brain works, that last section is basically a transcript of my thoughts! ↩︎