Roast chicken dinner

Last night I told mum I would ignore any and all statements from her that she didn’t want to go to her friend’s house for lunch until we got to at least mid-morning. And she did so state, and I did politely disregard what she said, and eventually she changed her mind and decided to come.

Part-way there, mum piped up from the back seat “where are we going?”, and once we got there she asked me privately if we were going to have food, but otherwise it was a fun lunch out.

The only one who didn’t get roast chicken was the dog, who went round the table putting her head into each lap in turn, presumably hoping that the shock of looking down and seeing two sad eyes staring back would lead to the dropping of something she could eat.

And now we’re home, my clothes covered in dog fur, and my stomach / tastebuds trying to convince me that what they really need now is chocolate, or ice cream, or both. I think they’re hinting at the tub of Ben & Jerry’s in the outside freezer, but what they’re getting is an ice cream Snickers bar. Or maybe two.