Chicken enchilasagne; syrup sponge and cream

In the same way the weather forecast now includes a daily pollen forecast, I think we need a daily Cat irritation forecast, so everyone knows when to simply back away making vague shushing noises. Which is to say, yesterday was a bad day and I was in no mood to be sociable, even virtually, particularly when I realised I’d forgotten to take a photo of dinner. It was fish, chips, and mushy peas (sweetcorn for mum), btw, and very nice once I’d managed to prise the chips off the baking tray where someone had apparently super-glued them.

Today has mostly been a better day, with the only real activity being one of mum’s friends unexpectedly coming round with a “memory book” she had made for mum with pictures of her church friends labelled with their names. Mum was actually having a good day today and reminded the friend of some of the names of mutual acquaintances, but I can see that it will be helpful on less good days.

Then we watched a US dog show on television where, to my complete lack of amazement, every single one was my favourite (or, I should probably write, favorite), I went to cook our dinner of enchiladas. I sliced, spiced, sizzled, went to wrap, and discovered the tortillas had fluffy blue spots. 🤢

No problem, we have mini tortillas in the cupboard, I’ll do mini enchiladas. But the mini ’tillas were all stuck together in a lump, and came off in shreds, so I decided to do it in layers in a dish, turning the enchiladas into an enchilasagne (patent pending).

I think it turned out quite nicely, and I thought it was delicious; mum didn’t comment but ate all of her serving so she can’t have hated it too much. At mum’s request (“I need something sweet”) I microwaved a couple of the sponge puddings that come in little plastic pots and have so many additives they will probably be a hotly coveted item after the apocalypse. They have a rubbery texture and super-sweet taste that is growing on me the more I eat them.

So that, once again, was that. I’ll see you tomorrow, possibly rather too early as it’s church day for mum, which means panic, which means reaching for her emotional support human (me). I’ll see you then.