Last night I made a vat of bolognese sauce. (Have I mentioned how much they eat around here?) I did this because I forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer and after a day of playing Florence Nightingale I needed something quick and ridiculously easy. Then I realised we had no spaghetti. Plan B, then.
The Football Fanatic arrived home at 8pm.
Her: "What is there to eat?" (She says this a lot. An awful lot...)
Me: "Well, it was going to be spaghetti bolognese, but we've got no spaghetti."
Her: "So, it's mince, then?"
Me: "Certainly not. It's pasta bolognese. Pasta we've got."
As I was dishing this out, I asked "Does anyone want grated cheese on this?"
The Singer: "I will"
Everyone: "You don't like cheese."
The Singer: "Yes I do."
Everyone: "Since when?"
The Singer: "Oh ages ago..."
That's her sandwiches sorted out for tomorrow then.
The Football Fanatic got halfway through hers and said: "What's for tea tomorrow?"
Her: "I hate fish."
Treat 'em mean, that's what I say!