I’m taking part in 30 Days of Writing, started by Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese. For a list of who’s taking part just visit their blog and check the list of links at the bottom. Today’s prompt is ‘In the kitchen’
This was first posted a few years ago, so Nicky may well laugh at me in my comments. That’s OK though, because she’s supposed to laugh.
Mo and I always eat our evening meal on individual tables in the lounge while watching the evening news. Last night was a little different because our sister, Tina, was staying with us so there were three eating.
We were having one of my favourites – Spaghetti Bolognese. I prefer the Bolognese to have a fair amount of liquid rather than a thick sauce, and Mo always makes it just the way I like it, aside from the fact that there is always enough big chunks of garlic in it to sink a battleship. Mo loves chunks of garlic, I don’t. Why does the mountain of garlic chunks always end up on my plate?
Anyway, things were not running quite as smoothly as usual. Our tables are usually set up before the meal is ready. Tonight I hadn’t set them yet when Mo handed me my plate of Bolognese along with my cutlery. I put my cutlery on the table and went to put my plate down. What the……? My plate was empty! I mean EMPTY! I stood, puzzled. Where’s my dinner? I gazed, confused at my plate but no, there was definitely no Bolognese there. On closer scrutiny I saw that there was a single strand of spaghetti on the plate. A single strand? Had Mo put me on a diet? ONE strand of spaghetti?
Then I saw it.
Spread out on our lounge carpet was a 2ft projectile of Bolognese topped with a liberal amount of spaghetti. My plate was clean, and when I say clean I mean clean. Aside from the one piece of spaghetti there was no sign anything had been there. I stood looking in disbelief at my lovely meal spread out on the carpet and soaking in more with every second that passed. How had it happened? When did it decide to go skating off my plate? What made it go so far? I would love to have been a fly on the wall and seen it happen. Preferably in slow motion.
“Mo! Come and see this” I called, in a state of shock but with a laugh bubbling up inside. “I’m busy” Mo said, from the kitchen, but Tina came rushing in. I looked at her and started to giggle. Tina looked at me and giggled. Mo came in and was a little less than amused. “Oh you are SO clumsy! Just look at the carpet” Mo said, in a slightly more colourful way than that. I giggled, Tina giggled and Mo threw out a few more irate comments as she went back into the kitchen to get their meals. The more irate Mo got, the funnier it was to me. It wouldn’t have been so funny though, if it were not for the fact that Mo always cooks enough for two days, so I was safe in the knowledge that I would be eating Bolognese that night.
By the time we had eaten Mo saw the funny side of it. I knew she would. It just takes her a little longer to laugh at these sort of accidents.
And now I’m thinking of firing myself as a blogger. I didn’t take a photograph of it before I cleaned it up, and I don’t think that suggesting a re-enactment of the scene for photographic reference would have gone down too well, do you?