Chinese takeaway again
'Not Chinese again.' Jake is toying with the pile of food on his plate. Fried rice, sweet and sour pork, crispy pancakes.
He's not happy. Jake would rather have fish and chips, or pizza, or spaghetti bolognese. Good traditional English food. Not Chinese takeaway which, according to Jake, slimes all over the plate and all tastes the same. Chinese takeaway has been on the menu twice this week. Nick and Ben Love it. Clive's lukewarm. I think it's delectable. Ginny puts the empty foil containers on the floor after she's served up and I lick them clean enough to refill - if you were so inclined.
I don't know why Ginny's suddenly taken to takeaways. She's always been very particular about the family food. She usually makes sure the boys have a good square home-made meal in the evenings. You know the meat and two veg type of thing. 'Takeaway is a once-in-a-while treat,' she once told the boys.
Clive queried the sudden takeaway frenzy.
'I've got loads of work on at the moment. I can't spend all my days cooking from scratch. I need to earn the money for our summer hols,' Ginny explained, none too convincingly.
I know for a fact that Ginny hasn't got a lot of work on. She may sit down at her computer for several hours a day but I wouldn't call it working. Once she's dashed off a few paragraphs of health news for Mirabelle magazine and answered a couple of queries from the sub-editors she spends much of the day perusing the bargains on e-bay. At about ten to three she flicks a duster over the worst of the mess, runs the Dyson over the hall floor, then dashes over the road to collect Jake from school at 3pm. It's a far from taxing life.
So why Ginny served up Chinese takeaway on Monday evening, and again on Wednesday evening is currently a mystery.
Thursday morning was Ginny's second session of Knit 'n' Bitch. Now I know for a fact that Ginny has hardly touched her needles this week - unless she's been clicking away while I've been having my afternoon nap. So when she pulled the red jumper she'd been knitting for Jake out of the Sainsbury's carrier bag there was a collective gasp around the breakfast table.
'Wow, is that my new jumper?' Jake jumped up and down spluttering Rice Krispies around the room (a tasty snack for me).
Ginny held up the work for all to admire. It was truly impressive. She'd almost finished the back and its intricate network of cable and moss stitch was a knitting wonder.
'How did you get all that done with all the work you've been doing?' Clive asked.
'Oh, it doesn't take long once you've got the hang of it. I just did a few minutes here and there through the week. It's very therapeutic really,' Ginny was waffling, and if there's one thing I've learnt since moving in with The Philpotts it's that when humans waffle, they lie.
After my morning walk Ginny trotted off to Knit 'n' Bitch. She had a sort of self-satisfied smile on her face. Nobody, but nobody, would dare to snigger at her knitting this week.
He's not happy. Jake would rather have fish and chips, or pizza, or spaghetti bolognese. Good traditional English food. Not Chinese takeaway which, according to Jake, slimes all over the plate and all tastes the same. Chinese takeaway has been on the menu twice this week. Nick and Ben Love it. Clive's lukewarm. I think it's delectable. Ginny puts the empty foil containers on the floor after she's served up and I lick them clean enough to refill - if you were so inclined.
I don't know why Ginny's suddenly taken to takeaways. She's always been very particular about the family food. She usually makes sure the boys have a good square home-made meal in the evenings. You know the meat and two veg type of thing. 'Takeaway is a once-in-a-while treat,' she once told the boys.
Clive queried the sudden takeaway frenzy.
'I've got loads of work on at the moment. I can't spend all my days cooking from scratch. I need to earn the money for our summer hols,' Ginny explained, none too convincingly.
I know for a fact that Ginny hasn't got a lot of work on. She may sit down at her computer for several hours a day but I wouldn't call it working. Once she's dashed off a few paragraphs of health news for Mirabelle magazine and answered a couple of queries from the sub-editors she spends much of the day perusing the bargains on e-bay. At about ten to three she flicks a duster over the worst of the mess, runs the Dyson over the hall floor, then dashes over the road to collect Jake from school at 3pm. It's a far from taxing life.
So why Ginny served up Chinese takeaway on Monday evening, and again on Wednesday evening is currently a mystery.
Thursday morning was Ginny's second session of Knit 'n' Bitch. Now I know for a fact that Ginny has hardly touched her needles this week - unless she's been clicking away while I've been having my afternoon nap. So when she pulled the red jumper she'd been knitting for Jake out of the Sainsbury's carrier bag there was a collective gasp around the breakfast table.
'Wow, is that my new jumper?' Jake jumped up and down spluttering Rice Krispies around the room (a tasty snack for me).
Ginny held up the work for all to admire. It was truly impressive. She'd almost finished the back and its intricate network of cable and moss stitch was a knitting wonder.
'How did you get all that done with all the work you've been doing?' Clive asked.
'Oh, it doesn't take long once you've got the hang of it. I just did a few minutes here and there through the week. It's very therapeutic really,' Ginny was waffling, and if there's one thing I've learnt since moving in with The Philpotts it's that when humans waffle, they lie.
After my morning walk Ginny trotted off to Knit 'n' Bitch. She had a sort of self-satisfied smile on her face. Nobody, but nobody, would dare to snigger at her knitting this week.
posted by Arrow at 3:45 AM
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