Relative

Time seems to pass by very slowly when you're waiting for a specific major thing to happen.
Or maybe it's the fact that Philippa is too big, and feels too uncomfortable, for us to be able to do much in the way of activities or trips out, so our lives have become a repetitive slog through the same routine in the same house over and over.
On the plus side, I ate an extraordinary amount of food yesterday. I did a rare Sunday morning fry-up, consisting of scrambled eggs, smoked back bacon, grilled field mushrooms, my signature baked beans (with added black pepper and BBQ sauce), Lincolnshire sausages, grilled tomatoes and toasted granary bread. Then I put a joint of topside (from the local butchers, NOT a cut from a supermarket) in the slow cooker and we each had a mid-afternoon thinly-sliced-beef baguette with butter and mustard. Then, about 7pm, I rustled up some spicy parsnip soup and served it with a warm ciabatta. Three delicious, homely meals, each prepared by myself and each, in their own way, tasty to the point of obscenity.
Mathew made do with a bowl of Rice Krispies, a dippy egg for lunch and some turkey dinosaurs and beans for tea, but he was equally as happy as myself and his mum.

On a sidenote, did you know that 'ciabatta' means 'carpet slipper' in Italian?
You probably did. But if you didn't, and that information leads to you winning a pub quiz sometime in the future, be sure to raise a glass to old Rory for helping you on your way.

RC 10-10-22