Cheese and onion rolls, criss-cross chips, baked beans

I had a dreadful night’s sleep last night, waking repeatedly with the feeling that my foot was on fire: trying to open a bottle of morphine at 1.16am, without turning on the lights and disturbing mum, proved to be an interesting challenge. I spent the rest of the day doing not very much (except for yawning: I did a lot of that), so again have nothing much to write about. I have plans for a brief series of reviews of chocolate bars I have tried since learning to like the stuff, which I can post when I don’t have anything else to say, but of course that relies on finding the spoons to write those posts in the first place.

Dinner was, unsurprisingly in the circumstances, a low-effort affair of cheese and onion rolls and criss-cross chips from the freezer, with baked beans for me and salad for mum (as her reaction on seeing the tin of beans was a horrified “don’t serve me any of those!”).

I’m now laid on my bed listening to the wind gusting outside, wondering if it’s worth wedging the door to stop it rattling in its frame when mum’s likely to open it again any second to ask what time she’s going to church in the morning, for the dozenth time since dinner. My most recent answer of “Bridgetown. Sorry, not you: that was answering Xander Armstrong on tv¹. R**** will be picking you up at 10ish tomorrow morning” might have given a small hint that I wasn’t 100% listening to what she was saying. 😬

And on that note, I will drink my hot Ribena (probably lukewarm Ribena by now), read a few pages of my book, then hopefully get some sleep. Goodnight, everyone.

1. Pointless. And it was, quite satisfyingly. ↩︎