Remember, that ghost I mentioned before? She’s back. And I don’t think she is keen on my cooking.
She’s only done a couple of things recently: She turned on the TV while we were in the kitchen and the remote controls were all in positions that had a Norman stepped on them (even though he wasn’t in the room), they couldn’t have turned it on. And she turned on the hob for no good reason. (And according to himself, she has to be a she because he’s never met a man eat quite the amount of chocolate that she seems to be helping herself to. Ahem).
Back to this story. I cooked yesterday. Actually, I more than cooked. I channeled my inner 1950’s housewife and spent the entire day in the kitchen and loved it. Until Mrs Ghost tried to kill me.
It turns out that I didn’t need quite the quantity of rhubarb I had bought to make a crumble for pudding, so after making fresh pesto sauce (get me!) for lunch sandwiches this week and cooking up some chicken to go with it, I made rhubarb crumble:
Rhubarb spice cake:
And a very small quantity of rhubarb and ginger cordial:
Then I cleaned up and started cooking dinner. Dinner was in the oven, everything was put away and I sat down to check facebook or something equally mind numbing. I could smell burning, but I assumed it was probably dinner and decided it could wait a while. Then I could smell big burning and looked up to lots of thick smoke. The hob – which I KNOW I had turned off – was busy cooking the oven gloves:
I flung open doors and stood outside til the smoke cleared and eventually went back inside to move clothes from the washing machine beeped and into the tumble drier. And Mrs Ghost tried it again! I put the clothes in, shut the door, pulled the thingy out the bottom to make sure it was empty of water, stood up to drain it in the sink and…well, somehow I’d trapped both ends of the cord from the hoody I was wearing in the door and was trapped in a stooping stance with a very full thingy of water. It took a while to get myself out of that one, but I made it. Phew. (It must have been Mrs Ghost as only a complete idiot would be able to trap themselves in such a way…)
I told himself all of this when he came home. Did he offer sympathy? An exorcism? Nope, he just laughed and told me to be careful…third time lucky and all that! It’s ok though, today the only evidence I’ve seen of her is a number of biscuits disappearing and a fair bit of cake. Hmmm, maybe she does like my cooking after all :o)