Tuesday, 12 February 2013

Not this again!

No one has come. 

"Diiiiinnnneeeer!" I call again, while hanging onto the edge of the kitchen door and shouting in the direction of the stairs. Then I turn back to survey the table. What have I forgotten?

I fill the water jug from the tap, hollering again as I do so: 

"I said, it's diiinnneeerrr!" 

I grab glasses, one, two, three, four... five. Skidding them onto the table, one next to each plate.

"Dinner time! Now! I've called you three times!"

I have the hot tap running as well, just for good measure. I add a quick squirt of Fairy. I grab more dirty things from where they're scattered around the hob and throw them into the sink. I turn off the tap.

"It's getting cold!" 

I may as well do a bit of this clearing up while I'm waiting... 

A shove a couple of things in the dishwasher, just willy-nilly, not how husband likes it, but he's not here. Ha! 

Not the non-stick pans, though, because it ruins the coating...

Still no one comes. 

I put things away: the milk, bag of flour, the cheese. I close the bin lid to make the kitchen look nicer.

Still they haven't come. 

"It's getting cold!"

A child arrives. "Oh no!" he says.

Then the next: "Not this again!"

Then the third: "I hate this!"

I stand, deflated, hands on filthy-apron-hips.

I have chopped, simmered, boiled, strained, fried, roasted and baked.

I have walked. Entire marathons of walking. 

Across the kitchen floor from fridge to hob to bin to sink and back again.

Before that I have racked my poor brain dry, before driving/walking/clicking the mouse.

Usually I have traipsed. Aisle upon aisle of traipsing.

More than all of this I have chosen.

Extra/essential/finest/three for two/with a bottle of wine/complimentary/more value family pack/25% off/deal.

I have unloaded, paid, packed, hauled, and tried to find somewhere for it all to go.

In the past ten days I calculate that I have cooked -

Marinated, roast lamb with dauphinoise potatoes,
Lamb stir fry (and/or chicken) with noodles, Spaghetti bolognese, 
Lasagne (made from leftover spaghetti bolognese),
Baked potatoes with cheese, salad and cabbage and bacon,
Beef casserole with green beans and mash,
Saturday fry-up,
Chicken pie with peas and mash,
Butternut squash and bulgur wheat stew
Leak and mushroom and bacon pasta bake
Marinated spicy chicken thighs with olives and brown rice,
Chickpea curry with beetroot and tomatoes and couscous,
Roast chicken with all the trimmings,
Chicken and mushroom risotto.

All by hand. From scratch. None of it Findus. Not one bit of it horse.

"Not this again!" they say.

I want to kill them.


This blog now has a Facebook page imaginatively called: I Don't Know How She Doesn't Do It. Please go to the page and press 'Like' if you enjoyed reading this. It will help get the blog read/noticed/eventually maybe even make money. Thank you.


  1. Ask Husband to rustle up a facsimile of a CH mince cobbler, or the oddly-sweet beef mince pies, or Toad in the Hole. Or, like their grandfather had in the RAF in Bahrain, c. 1955 21 meals on the trot of corned beef, liquified in the desert heat.

  2. Love this Elizabeth not only have you made me laugh - you have also provided me with a menu for the next 10 days to pull me out of my dinner rut. best regards Bec Sullivan (shared by Fi Sullivan)

  3. Thanks Bec! But don't follow me I'm lost too! I was thinking of resorting to fish and chips tonight! E x


    That's my house too! Except I just sit down and start eating all by myself!

    Can I move in to your house? Your diet sounds a lot more varied than ours!

    In my house I get 'I'm coming' just to placate me when clearly they're not coming. They are still watching tv, playing guitar, on Facebook etc etc. then I shout....

    Better try out some new recipes then - fish maybe?. Or is your day-to-day cooking really bad?

    But what was it? X

    You are a terrific cook, give them Dairylea on toast. That'll learn 'em. X

    I agree, they don't know how lucky they are...