Ham and cheese croquetas with arrabbiata sauce, crispy potato slices, and salad
Today has, in many ways, been a pretty normal day.
Mum has been clingy: I went for a shower and, when I came out of the bathroom, I was greeted by “there you are! I was wondering where you had got to”.
She has been manipulative: as soon as I said I was going to do some work, she was suddenly so ill she had to retreat to bed, and lie there plaintively observing that “it’s so hot” every few minutes. I lost track of the number of times I had to repeat “no, I’m not angry at you, I’m just concentrating”.
She has been frustrating: she was “too wobbly” to help me put away the groceries, but mere moments later was well enough to go out in the garden to cut some roses. (I am forced to admit, however, that the roses, now sitting on my bedside table in a glass of water, do smell amazing.)
The prospect of freedom has rendered all of this a good 10% less irritating than usual. Mum has sensed this change and, consciously or not, has hated it and made every effort to drag me back into the pit of misery. Singing old Adele songs while making coffee is not something that is acceptable in this household. 🙄
But I persevered. I looked at flats for let around the Island: none entirely suitable, either because they have a bath rather than a shower, or because they don’t allow pets, but just looking was fun.
I did some work on this site: there is now a who’s who guide and the start of a page highlighting things that have been useful to me. Please let me know if there are any problems with these pages, or with the menu system, as I had to put them together in 5 minute spurts, in between interruptions.
I looked at menus for a few restaurants in the bigger towns on the Island, and dreamed of eating without anyone passing a judgemental “urgh, what’s that?”
I made dinner: ham and cheese croquetas with arrabbiata sauce1, with mum’s favourite crispy potato slices and salad. Mum didn’t like the croquetas, and I understand why: the texture of the filling is a bit gloopy. I’m pretty sure that’s how they should be, though – the filling is basically a béchamel sauce – and I thought they were really good.
Mid-meal we had a slightly heated debate2 on the topic of “why has the apple juice turned nasty?” My attempt at a logical answer – “it’s because you keep leaving it out of the fridge during a heatwave, mum” – failed to win the debate, sadly, so I foresee a lot of putting the carton back in the fridge in my near future.
Now I’m going to go and look for something sweet to eat before mum finishes it all off. I will end with a note that, according to today’s grocery delivery driver, Tesco is letting staff leave work before the end of their shift so they can watch the England v Norway match tonight.
Nice one, Tesco. Now can you persuade mum to let me watch the match without “aren’t you asleep yet?” within minutes of kick-off? TYIA!
Is it pineapple sponge today? 