It was about 3am this morning that I realised I had had too much custard…
Despite writing effusively about custard I have actually not had it for a few days – I was poised, over the Bank Holiday weekend – ingredients at the ready – for the overwhelming urge for custard to overtake me … but it just didn’t…
But then, yesterday evening, it struck! Tom had made me a fabulous dish we call “lamb cardamom” – pieces of lamb cooked with caramelised onions and Greek yoghurt – spiced with cardamoms – served with rice and veg – completely yummy …
But… in this instance not enough! I should have realised I had gone too far when I spotted that Tom hadn’t managed to finish his – unheard of! And that my bowl – in contrast – looked like it had been licked clean – it hadn’t … I’m not THAT bad….
So there I was suddenly awake at 3am thinking – “I’ll blog about this tomorrow” and thinking of fabulous things to say – wonderful turns of phrase, flourishes – but too tired and uncomfortable to get out of bed and jot them down…
In my first week of blogging – those of you with me at that point – will remember the 2.47am blog when I was overcome with the desire to write – a bit like being on honey moon – everything is just SO exciting that blog writing consumed me! But now I have got to the post honeymoon blog stage – the sort of leaving your curlers in and wearing old slippers and shuffling round the house stage of a relationship… except that I wasn’t shuffling anywhere – I had the duvet snuggled tightly round me – until of course the odd hot flush struck when it would be banished, hurled over Tom’s side – before being grabbed back when the flush subsided…
I have just remembered: I was thinking about my parents’ rubbish collection, because I remember thinking, “This is what your life has come to: ridiculously overfull of custard, suffering the very predictable bloaty crampy post custard blues, having a hot flush, AND, getting completely wrapped up over whether next time I visit my parents it is a: “bottles and jars day”, or a “general rubbish day”, and whether – if it is a “general rubbish day” – do I need to grovel about in my parents’ bin to make sure everything is in bin bags? … and, where did I put my rubber gloves? … as it has been a few weeks since that rubbish was collected…. and thinking WHAT AM I DOING!!! What has my life come to?! Have I nothing better to do or think about than lie here, uncomfortable and sweaty, using my powerful imagination to trawl the depth of my parents’ rubbish bin … searching in my very vague memory for Marigold gloves? …bonkers!
And was I having “the best time”? … No, that was when I was eating the last of the custard 🙂
