My wife is a keen photographer (no, not that sort; girls taking their clothes off don't do it for her, unfortunately) and so today she is off to the deepest darkest jungle that is Woburn Abbey to undoubtedly get the Jeep scratched and herself eaten by a lion.
Unfortunately, this means that I've got to fend for myself today. It's already been a struggle trying to work out whether to spend the free time this morning before work doing paperwork, reading a magazine, having a bath, doing the housework or just generally being lazy, but then I had to figure out how to feed myself.
This is something I just don't do. There has always been a food fairy that miraculously puts meals in front of me at certain times of the day, usually just before I start killing customers through frustration. Today, there won't be.
But we have children, so when I decided I ought to have some breakfast this morning I thought it would be easy. With a six-year-old and a nine-year-old in the house, I must be able to find some cereal to start the day with, and indeed I could. But unfortunately it was all gobbledegook to me - there was so much choice it was almost painful.
Quite aside from good old-fashioned children's cereals such as Frosties or that Snap, Crackle and Pop stuff, we seem to have a surfeit of other breakfast offerings, including muesli, Special K, Honey Waffles, Chocco Hoops and something worryingly called Golden Balls, from Asda.
The mere choice gave me a headache, so I decided to make myself a sandwich instead. Except, as we live in a pub, there doesn't appear to be a supply of Tesco Value Thick Slice for me to smear some butter on. Instead, we have posh bread that the customers apparently love but, unfortunately, seemed to require nothing weaker than a chainsaw in order to slice it.
I could have screamed. All I wanted was some breakfast. So I made some tea, grabbed a packet of Pickled Onion Monster Munch, and headed back upstairs.
By the time the wife gets home, the boys and I will look so forlorn she'll be forced to serve up a great big plate of supper and never go away again. Even for six hours.
Unfortunately, this means that I've got to fend for myself today. It's already been a struggle trying to work out whether to spend the free time this morning before work doing paperwork, reading a magazine, having a bath, doing the housework or just generally being lazy, but then I had to figure out how to feed myself.
This is something I just don't do. There has always been a food fairy that miraculously puts meals in front of me at certain times of the day, usually just before I start killing customers through frustration. Today, there won't be.
But we have children, so when I decided I ought to have some breakfast this morning I thought it would be easy. With a six-year-old and a nine-year-old in the house, I must be able to find some cereal to start the day with, and indeed I could. But unfortunately it was all gobbledegook to me - there was so much choice it was almost painful.
Quite aside from good old-fashioned children's cereals such as Frosties or that Snap, Crackle and Pop stuff, we seem to have a surfeit of other breakfast offerings, including muesli, Special K, Honey Waffles, Chocco Hoops and something worryingly called Golden Balls, from Asda.
The mere choice gave me a headache, so I decided to make myself a sandwich instead. Except, as we live in a pub, there doesn't appear to be a supply of Tesco Value Thick Slice for me to smear some butter on. Instead, we have posh bread that the customers apparently love but, unfortunately, seemed to require nothing weaker than a chainsaw in order to slice it.
I could have screamed. All I wanted was some breakfast. So I made some tea, grabbed a packet of Pickled Onion Monster Munch, and headed back upstairs.
By the time the wife gets home, the boys and I will look so forlorn she'll be forced to serve up a great big plate of supper and never go away again. Even for six hours.
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