pantry pants and procrastinations..

Saturday Night


Last Saturday..

Contents of the pantry :

A lot of flour
A lot of spices
A lot of cat biscuits
Bird Seed.
Approx 15 ml No Added Sugar Apple Squash.
A lot of porridge oats
5 ice cream cornets
Lentils & a lot of other things resembling assorted gravel unless boiled & soaked for 36 hours
One crust of Multiseed Bread, dehydrated
6 sachets of Cat Food
1 tin of Low Fat Custard. ( almost as good as Parmesan cheese

On account of this we decided to Go for a Curry. Spent about 2 hours deciding where…

Him ( on bog) We always go to Mumbai
Me( scrubbing fossilised bits of nuclear porridge bomb from inside microwave )yeah it’s good.They get us a nice table & they bring us our drinks without even asking
Him : we could try somewhere else?
Me : ….hmmm..ok then..but it may not be so good..
Him: it would be different..
Me: ok, well..I suppose.We could go to Chutney
him: the Raj?
Me: Service meant to be crap there…
( a Tripadvisor interlude ensues…)
Me: the Viceroy?
Him: The Mumtaz?
Me: The Taj Mahal?
Him: Orchid Indienne?
Him: the Tigress?
Me: that’s Thai. And they had that thing in the paper
Him: about the lice and the plug hole
Me: Aubergine?
Him: Its vegetarian, I’m not having bloody vegetarian
Me: yeah the doors are narrow there..
Him: eh?
Me: ..& your mind is so broad your head might not fit through..
Him: eh?
Me: they won’t let you in
Him: let’s go to Chutney. We haven’t been there in….
Me: it’s tiny.
Him: we havent been there for, ages, it would be different
Me: they practically make you sit on someone else’s lap.
Him: we always go to Mumbai, let’s go to Chutney..
Me: Ok, but there better not be people there.People go there you know..People from Work, even..
Him: it’ll be empty. It’s 7 o’clock, it’s the school holidays.
Him: It’s Saturday.Its pouring with rain
Me: ( its school holidays.Its Saturday)….we live in a holiday resort. We should book..
Him: itll be fine
Me: ok, you better bring your Ear Trumpet. I’m not shouting at you across…..particularly if there’s people from work,..
Him: What about the Raj?
Me: What about the Raj?
Both: Sod it, let’s go to the Raj…

So, last Saturday, we went to the Raj.We ordered poppadums and chutneys including one which was a thrilling shade of green. Then pilau rice, chicken tikka chilli masala and tandoori chicken wings. Totally yum.
This aside, the Raj was nice: big, airy etc and apart from its view directly over the Cricket ground, was salubrious and agreeable. Were it a view over some more attractive sporting facility, say, one of those places where real men in kilts toss tree trunks about, then this would seal the deal for the Raj. However, as many of the mighty sisterhood and some of our more enlightened brothers recognise, Cricket is a horrid excuse for a sport at which anyone with half a brain weeps buckets of despair.
Me: ( pensively) I hate cricket.
Him:Well you could ask them for a fork, they wouldn’t mind..,
Me: It’s chicken wings, you are meant to pick it…no, I don’t want a fork, look, I was talking about Cricket..
Him: I’ll get you a fork (waggles hand in direction of passing waiter) hang on, excuse me but…
Me: (glancing hopefully at his trouser pocket, which is where he hides the ear trumpet..) The Ear Trumpet, could you, er..

Time shifts in my head. Blazing, red shift backwards. I am Mummy. I am ever loving, ever loveable. My value lies in the indisputable fact that the two vibrant little clothes bundles of life who accompany me everywhere, permanently attached to my leg, know indisputably that I indisputably know Everything. They can ask me anything, and I can respond, and in their absolute trust they believe that I am right. Some time in the future, they become aware that this is total rubbish, however, within the rosily tinted time shift they still know that I am right.
I can confidently answer any question, no matter how inane..
Eg Mummy, why is the moon?
A: Because it is the great big moon, poppet, and it just is..
Mummy, why is the moon big?
Because its the moon.
(holding teddy up to the moon)…it’s only as big as teddys hand, look..
(O…God..this could go on..) Well, that’s because it’s got moon magic.
Why is moon magic?
Well, it can make itself look really really really small…
Really small..really little like a sweetcorn thing?
Ohhhh much smaller than that..
Can it disappear, with moon magic?
Of course it can ! ( slight snuggle..) you know what, if you close your eyes now, in the mornings the moon will be gone..
Will it come again tomorrow..?
Oh yes….but sometimes it has to go to bed for a little while too..
..moon goes to bed???
Yep, but it comes out again then. It has a great big moon bed behind the clouds, that’s why there’s clouds, to keep the moon cosy
Are they soft?
Really soft. Just like your pillow..
(sitting up rapidly) Clouds are like my pillow?
Just like it poppet. All soft and fluffy, just like your pillow!
( whingefully) mmmmmwwwwwwwnnnnnrghEEEEEEE
I don’t like my pillow wee!!
It weeeeee!! My pillow WEEEEEEEEEE..
( Right. ok.) Of course it won’t, silly sausage! Its a pillow ! It can’t wee!!
(Oh!Oh!Oh! Nooooooh!! At best, am now about to be forced to explain anatomical details of why a pillow cannot wee!) Rapidly become aware of a Motorway Moment, ie overwhelming need to find/ take next exit, any exit, to avoid becoming committed to many hours of hideous tedium..)
But Daddy said when we were in the park we have to go home because the clouds are going to do a rude word that means have a wee and we have to go home and..
Well he was just being silly! OOOOh!! Look ! I can see Big Wheels ( ie picture book re diggers and tractors and truck stuff so criminally boring it can fossilise any sensate being within 30 secs of opening..)
Eeeeeeeeh!Eeeeeeeeh! Big Wheeeeeeeels!!! I want Big Wheeeeeels!!
( accepting fate) OK then.
“Big Wheels work for us. Big Wheels are on the Low Loader. Big wheels are on the tractor.Big wheels are..” etc etc etc

etc etc

Reverse shift. Returning to the restaurant.
Him..what did you say?
Me: I said where’s your Ear Trumpet????
Him: ( to passing waiter) Excuse me, could we have a fork please? She needs a fork…
Waiter directs a glance of disbelief/ disgust in my direction. I snatch at His fork and brandish it.
Me: A Fork!! A Fork, please!!!
Waiter departs, many suspicious backward glances.
Me: I didn’t even NEED a bloody fork!!! What is WRONG with you?
Him: Mighty.I am a mighty man. I got you your fork..
Me: ( give me strength..)..Can you hear me?
Him:..AND I got you nice chicken..
” Look! Look! Theres a Big Screen just over there!!!
Him: eh?
Me : hey look, there’s a Big Screen, and Foopball !!!
Him: ( suddenly animated) FOOPBALL
A beautiful silence ensues during which I retrieve the nice lumps out of the mango chutney whilst he undertakes cosmic shift between my universe, and alternative one which contains foopball..
I don’t know how many calories there are in Mango lumps. A lot, probably, but I can eat them very slowly.


2 thoughts on “pantry pants and procrastinations..

  1. I couldn’t leave a comment on ‘Before Gin Time’ (apparently I also belong to the technically challenged club) but I wanted to tell you how beautiful it was – Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~William Wordsworth
    mission accomplished


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