Roasted Mediterranean veg and feta with cheesy garlic bread

While I sometimes (often) get frustrated with mum’s endless questions, I at least usually understand what she’s asking. On some occasions, though…

As we were sitting watching tv this afternoon, mum suddenly asked “are we going to sleep tonight?” Err… yes? That’s what we usually do a night?

Mum looked worried. “But… it will be dark.”

“Yes?”

“I’m scared. How will we do that? When it’s dark?”

I remain completely bemused by the question: what mum was scared about, and why, I have no idea. (And no, she’s not scared of the dark, before you ask.) Fortunately, in at least this regard, mum soon forgot about the conversation, in favour of endless worry over the two hospital appointments in the next two days.

One question that mum asks repeatedly is will I help her at her appointments. I shouldn’t find it hurtful that she asks so often, but I do: of course I’ll help. Does she really think I won’t?

Strange questions aside, today saw the sad end of the living room sparklies, with all the lights and decorations now off our Christmas tree. The tree itself will follow into its box tomorrow. In its place I have ordered a pretty glass vase (“be careful,” said mum, “you might break it,” which is true but not particularly constructive) and some fairylights strung on a golden wire along with multicoloured crystals, which will go into the vase for a sparkly decoration.

Then I had a shower, then took a phone call from a family friend about her idea for a project to promote the local area, for which she has already gained interest from several independent businesses and from someone who runs a food group on Facebook. (Of which I am a member, proving again what a ridiculously small world the West Wight community is.)

Then I cooked dinner, which was nice but a bit salty (feta + garlic seasoning + grated grana padano all together was a bit much), so I think I’ll be gulping water for the next 12 hours. So now I know what I’ll be doing tonight while mum is (presumably) sleeping.