Phew, my feet hurt! I once had an outside catering business and after that I worked in a theatre restaurant followed by running a delicatessen shop. In all those jobs I was on my feet for a long time. This feels the same but I am only catering for three of us!
Today my fruit and vegetables arrived. I still had to go to the farm shop and the brewing shop for broccoli, cabbage and citric acid and the health shop for brown rice and the butcher’s for chicken and beef mince for the cats! I thought I was organised but apparently not.
Anyway, the veg delivery included a box of juicing oranges and a box of juicing apples so guess what I have been doing. Yep; juicin’, in my Magimix electric juicer.
The apple box cost £11.85 and yielded about 3.5 litres of apple juice. That works out at £3.38 per litre and the orange juice yielded about 2.75 litres at £9.25 i.e. £3.36 per litre. I’m not sure this was worth all the effort although it tastes really good. Grove Fresh apple juice and orange juice from Abel and Cole both work out at £2.39 per litre.
The cat food looks disgusting, as though the cats have already eaten it once! Neither one has ventured near it yet so I’ll have to let you know how it was received.
I decided that the only way to get them to eat the rice and cabbage would be to blend them into a puree. That’s why it looks so foul. It tasted pretty dire too because it has no seasoning. I can’t bring myself to taste the tinned stuff to compare. Yuck again.
On a positive note I have enjoyed a delicious free range, home cooked chicken and salad for lunch accompanied by a slice of homemade bread.
This evening has just taken a turn for the worse. I was taking Mavis to Brownies and shut the door behind me to realise that the thing clasped in my hand was not the front door key but £2 for an ice cream when the Brownies go to the Panto in January! This in itself was bad enough but made even worse by the fact that it is the second time in a month that I have stranded myself outside the house.
A kindly, if slightly infirm neighbour leant me a ladder and insisted on coming to help me break in through a tiny top casement, fortunately on the ground floor. The window had a fixed pane and a small casement above on the left half and a side opening casement on the right half with two handles that needed lifting to release the window and give me access. Having insinuated my head and one shoulder into the wet room through the small top casement, and fought off the venetian blind, I managed, with one foot precariously wobbling on the ladder, to open the top handle of the larger side opening window but couldn’t reach the lower one. Eventually, with the help of a wine bottle from the recycling bin I managed to open the window and rather inelegantly fell in through the window with the help of a foot on the toilet seat.
I sit here with mixed feelings: If I weren’t 52 and hormonally challenged I should probably not have locked myself out in the first place, but, I’m not so bad for an old bird, plenty of women my age would never have managed to manoeuvre themselves through that window without injury. Well, I like to believe that anyway, it makes me feel less of an idiot.
I’ve just given a spare key to a neighbour so this never happens again – as long as I remember I’ve done it!
Good job I had taken the muffins out of the oven before I went out or they would have been carbonised. As it is they look rather professional and will impress my breakfast guests tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow I make ice cream, hopefully more successfully than last time, and broccoli and Stilton (well Bleu d’Ambert actually) soup.
Heaven help my waistline. I have decided that I am not an earth mother, more a girth mother.