We made Bad Stew. By “we”, of course, I really mean “Relly”, but I feel that “we” somehow eases her burden.
It is Sunday. The day has barely begun (for me, having gone to bed at 4am), and already the kitten has pushed from the work surface a large antique platter which was one of the first things Relly and I bought as a couple when we lived in Clapham Junction, London. Needless to say, it’s now a quaint but slightly less valuable set of several smaller platettes.