A Shriek In The Night*

“I forgot to record the tennis,” Mum says, when arrive home with Dad from my course.  She’s in the kitchen, hanging up some washing.

“Oh,” I say, taking some wet socks from the kitchen table and handing them on the airer.  “That’s a shame.  Presumably that’s Jo losing her match and…”

“Yes,” Mum says.  

“Andy didn’t play today did he,” I say, wandering over to the cocktail section of the kitchen.

“No,” Mum says.  “Who did you learn about today?”

“Pol Pot,” I say.  “It was brilliant.  Fascinating.”  

Due to the-tennis-not-being-recorded, we’re watching last night’s Winterwatch.  There are golden eagles, black grouse and ptarmigan.  There’s also the distracting smell of chips wafting through from the kitchen.  Hungry.

Even The Rapid Cyclist has to eat at a restaurant sometimes.  Or, to be precise, every Thursday lunchtime before the 2pm history lecture.  Here’s lunch:  

Houmous, cauliflower, aubergine and pitta bread.  Yum.  Share this starter with Dad.  Main course: rice, aubergine, butternut squash and salad – not quite so good.

Here’s this evening’s cocktail:

It’s gin, ginger wine, ginger ale and lime juice and is a variation on the Ginger Rogers, which is also meant to contain fresh mint.  But there’s not enough mint in the garden.  So, next time.

“Do you like it?” I ask Dad.  As you can see, have made one for Dad too.

“Very nice,” Dad says.  He drinks it and then sleeps through Winterwatch.

The attached photo is at Spin this morning.  Trousers by Fit Boutique.

Happy Thursday everyone!
*1933.  Ginger Rogers film.  Directed by Albert Ray.

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