Cheesy garlic flatbread with salad

It’s been another scorcher today in southern England. After mum woke me at half past midnight last night / this morning to ask what she was supposed to be doing (“sleeping, mum. Please”), I was awake early, partly because I was expecting to have to call the GP surgery.

When mum woke up, though, she firmly stated that she didn’t want me to call anyone, and promised to try to be good.

And, to be fair, she did try. She complained about the heat, at one point telling me that I “need to turn the hot weather off”, but she accepted a few suggestions to make her cooler, such as replacing her usual jeans with a pair of shorts, and letting me move the fan into her bedroom.

The other reason I was awake early is that, according to the text they sent me, B&Q would be delivering my compost and new fan between 9am and 11am, and I would receive a phone call half an hour beforehand to let me know they were coming. By 11.30am, with no sign of the delivery or the phone call, I went onto B&Q’s live chat and spoke to someone who… well, I’ll be charitable and say they were grumpy because of the heat.

The outcome of that conversation was that the delivery would happen, but they couldn’t say when. It eventually turned up about four o’clock, with no phone call in advance, and honestly it was foolish of me to expect the Island to ever run to mainland rules. The driver was more than happy to deliver the compost to the back of the house, though, so I really can’t complain.

For dinner I made a cheesy garlic flatbread: a ball of pre-made dough pressed out into a vague circle (more of a kidney shape, really, but I tried), spread with butter and sprinkled with roasted garlic seasoning, topped with grated cheese, then baked until golden and bubbling rather alarmingly.

I thought it was delicious, if a little salty – too much of the seasoning mix, I think – but mum wasn’t keen. (Not a surprise: mum has spent most of today looking at a fridge full of food and saying there’s “nothing to eat”. It’s getting to the stage where I am genuinely starting to worry about what I’m going to feed her.)

Then mum ate half a packet of chocolate biscuits, and requested that I acquire more quite urgently. If all else fails, she can always have biscuits, I suppose. 🤷‍♂️

Now it’s the usual routine of “there’s nothing to watch” and “it’s so hot!” On that point, at least, I can agree: there really is far too much hot around at the moment.