Roast chicken, potato gratin, green beans; white chocolate and raspberry cheesecake
Another day that started almost as soon as it started getting light, with mum calling “are you there? I’m scared” through my bedroom door. She did it at least three more times before I gave up and got up, just as Little Madam arrived.
She once again chivvied mum through washing and dressing in clean clothes, then distracted mum with breakfast while I had a shower. Mum spent the rest of the day in perma-complaint mode, while I tried to hide in a book with intermittent feline company. (Intermittent because mum’s fidgeting kept scaring her away.)
For dinner I did a half chicken in garlic and herb marinade. Mum took most of the chicken, repeatedly asking me to cut more for her, but didn’t eat it all so I can have the rest in a sandwich tomorrow.
She is currently having an anxiety flare, and spent most of the meal worrying that we have no food to eat. We have plenty of everything except sweet things: in our last grocery order, delivered in the middle of last week, I bought six chocolate brownie mousse sundaes and three individual fruit trifles, along with a fruit pie, a fruit crumble, and several packs of ice lollies. It’s nearly all gone: I got half of the pie and half of the crumble, but mum has eaten all the rest. But somehow it’s my fault that we don’t have any of her favourites left.
Instead I provided a white chocolate and raspberry cheesecake, which is so dense I struggled to get a knife through it. Once again mum insisted on a giant portion which she then couldn’t finish, so I ate the rest. It’s very sweet, with a slight tart edge from the raspberry sauce on top and in a too-thin layer – imo – over the biscuit base. I liked it, but then I’ve never met a cheesecake I didn’t like!
By this stage of the day I’m so tired that even an overdose of sugar in the form of an excess of white chocolate can’t keep me alert. I have asked mum not to wake me so often, so early, but she doesn’t remember doing it and, frankly, doesn’t care much either way.
Tomorrow I have a long list of things that need doing, including topping up the fridge with “nice food” and contacting another letting agent about a flat, in case the one by the river gets a different new tenant. For now, I will “oh really?” along to mum’s live commentary on the Strictly results (seriously mum, I really don’t care) and wait for the moment when mum lies down and I can settle with a scented candle, a cat, and a book.
I’ll enjoy it while I can, knowing that all too soon it will be morning and the demands will start again.
