What's For Dinner? I Don't Know, The Label's Fallen Off The Tin.

Anyone fancy roast beef and all the trimmings? It's not exactly in peak condition but it will certainly do in an emergency. Ok, the roasties are a bit soggy now, there's a skin on the gravy and the Yorky pud has kinda set solid. Still, if you've ever eaten in a Harvester then I'm sure you could get it down your gullet.
The whole meal, which took hours to prepare and cook, was waiting for me in the kitchen, Marie Celeste-like, when I came down this morning. I would have put it in the fridge last night but there just wasn't room. You see, there was already a cottage pie in there which I had made for dinner on Friday, as well as a Pither Special steak and kidney pudding which I had knocked up on Saturday. Both those meals were substituted in the end by southern European and central Asian dishes - namely a delivery pizza and a curry!
Cooking is supposed to be the hard, laborious part. Eating is supposed to be easy. Sadly, I love cooking but always seem to find that by the time I've spent ages painstakingly creating some tempting dish I have lost my appetite. It's a bit like spending a couple of hours on foreplay and then finding that you've gone off the idea of having full-on sex, let alone an orgasm, and would rather just watch the telly!
There is, however, another reason for my wasted efforts - my very-soon-to-be ex-wife is away at the moment. Cooking for one is just not the same. There's a sexual analogy there as well - you do the maths!
Mrs P packed her little kit bag on Friday night and headed off to Big Town for a reunion with old pals. Providing the Betty Ford Clinic discharges her, she is due to return this afternoon to take me to hospital for yet another check on my knackered knee.
In the interim, catering for just myself has taken me back to my college days. I
vowed at the end of that particular episode in my life that it would be a cold day in Hell before I ever ate a Pot Noodle or a Vesta Chow Mein-For-One again.
When I finally got married at the age of 39 I thought I had definitely kissed goodbye to Nobby No-Mates nourishment - goodbye to condensed milk or crisp sandwiches, no more Fray Bentos pies-in-a-tin, so long individual Kraft cheese slices, out with sucking Primula cheese out of the tube.
Well, it appears that Hades could be heading for a long, cold spell and this weekend has given me a taste of what to expect in the future. I better begin stocking up on Dairylea, tins of bangers 'n' beans and Jaffa Cakes.
Sorry, while I loved eating Weetabix straight from the box with jam on top I think that strange period of my life is over and I don't think I should go back to it. Cooking for one can go to Grantham.