Did You Remember The Garlic?

Today Mrs H started her first day at her new works. Off she popped at the crack of dawn and that was that for the next 8 hours.

All I had to do was empty the bin, do the recycling, walk the dog and make the tea.

Bins and recycling are a doddle. No problems here!

The dog almost walks himself and what with the campsite being almost empty, I had all day to get the tea ready.

I've got a bad feeling about this...

Can you guess what task I managed to bugger up?

Here’s a clue – it was tonight’s tea.

I wasn’t making my world famous Spam pasta (for which the recipe is knocking about on the internet somewhere) nor was I doing Chicking-Junk (another of my amazing meals, which I may do as a post sometime!)

No. I was due to make that extravagant and complicated juggling act known the world over as spag bol.

And I screwed it up.

My first mistake was thinking I was making chilli con carne. That’s were it all started. Having measured out a bowl of rice using my own method of one handful of rice per person plus half a hand for Jesus (you never know when he’s going to turn up) I stared blankly and pondered...

“Me not makey chilli con con? Me makey stringy meat meat.” I thought to myself.

At this (very early) point in proceedings I started to smell burning beef.

Thats ME!

Bugger.

In true Frank Spencer fashion I poured the rice back into the rice container, hit my head on the open cupboard door, flipped the meat and burnt my hand, dropped a fork onto the dogs head (he is fine) and grabbed some spaghetti and threw it into a pan of boiling water. (At least I got that bit right)

Mrs H was not due for at least.... oh crap. How long is she going to be? I had no idea. It could be 20 minutes, it could be 2 hours.

As I continued to panic and cook (that’s how I roll) everything seemed to be going OK. The smoke alarm didn’t set itself off in a tizzy which makes me think it needs new batteries.

Just as I put the garlic bread into the oven, Mrs H walks in and the dog go nuts.

“Tea will be ready in ten minutes. There’s a glass of wine on the table for you.” I say as I try to look as nonchalant as possible, while picking out the little burnt bits of beef pepper and onion.

The reply from Mrs H was thus “Did you put any garlic in it this time.”

Shityshityshityshityshityshit.

I had not put any garlic in anything.

In my defence I had grated some cheese and done the washing up.

I had also done the bins, sorted the recycling and walked the dog.

It has been a busy day.

The Dog ate what ws left, so at least he liked it.

I am stupid.