Beloved to the doghouse!
So, 2 friends round at our house talking to Beloved while I potter when he comes and asks me what we're having for dinner since I usually spend a little more time on a Friday.
So coquille st Jacques, followed by chicken thighs filled with softcheese, chives and caramelised onions on a mushroom, pancetta and parmesan risotto with tarragon butter mushrooms followed by a chocolate mousse brownie cake thing (Yes I just described that to make you all jealous :P)
After contemplating this for a while, he leaves. There is conversation.
Then he returns and stand in silence.
Now, Beloved has an odd talent, I don't know whether it's good or not. But he can stand, in perfect silence, and radiate guilt. You know, without a single clue as to why or how, that he has done something he knows is wrong and is trying to put the best spin on it.
My kitchen fills with guilt waves.
"Why..." I ask calmly "do I think I am cooking for 2 more people now?"
"Um."... yes, they Um of guilt.
Thankfully I am awesome and adaptable (and always cook too much) so manage to survive the disaster he maliciously inflicted on me.
Now, I must work diligently to prolong and exploit his guilt for as long as possible. And stop him inviting people without asking me first. Again. I think I shall have to imagine some painful deterrents. I'm good at those
So coquille st Jacques, followed by chicken thighs filled with softcheese, chives and caramelised onions on a mushroom, pancetta and parmesan risotto with tarragon butter mushrooms followed by a chocolate mousse brownie cake thing (Yes I just described that to make you all jealous :P)
After contemplating this for a while, he leaves. There is conversation.
Then he returns and stand in silence.
Now, Beloved has an odd talent, I don't know whether it's good or not. But he can stand, in perfect silence, and radiate guilt. You know, without a single clue as to why or how, that he has done something he knows is wrong and is trying to put the best spin on it.
My kitchen fills with guilt waves.
"Why..." I ask calmly "do I think I am cooking for 2 more people now?"
"Um."... yes, they Um of guilt.
Thankfully I am awesome and adaptable (and always cook too much) so manage to survive the disaster he maliciously inflicted on me.
Now, I must work diligently to prolong and exploit his guilt for as long as possible. And stop him inviting people without asking me first. Again. I think I shall have to imagine some painful deterrents. I'm good at those