Every Tuesday night I sit at the kitchen table with a pen, some paper and a few cooking magazines. I waste about an hour of my time flicking through said magazines looking for meal ideas for the coming week, that will keep the five people living in the house that I feed, reasonably happy.
I get up on Wednesday morning. I get dressed, slap some makeup on and assort my masses of hair strands into some kind of order.
I head to the supermarket where I smile and make aimless conversation with various people.
I read my list and search for the items on the list. I take them off the shelf and put them in my bastard wheeled trolley. I take them to the checkout where I take them out of the trolley and put them on the belt. I pay a small fortune for the items then put them back in the trolley. I wheel the trolley to the car and once again take the items out of the trolley and put them in the boot of the car. I drive home and take the bags from the boot to the kitchen, where I unpack them and put them back on shelves, this time in my kitchen. I hope they feel secure now they're back on familiar territory.
Then each night of the week I take various items from the shelves and spend an hour or two preparing them into a meal.
I then serve this meal to four ungrateful bastards who come up with various excuses as to why they can't or won't eat it.
I have (hang on, counting here…..) ten words to say:-
COLD MEAT AND SALAD OR A SANDWICH FROM NOW ON.
I'm the fool of course – It's taken me 20 years to come to this conclusion.