When I posted my review of the new Liberty book yesterday, I didn't mention that while I wrote, Sunday lunch was being made by my children. They requested that I entertain myself while they concocted an entire meal; aware that at some point I must trust them to use the bread knife unwatched, I left them to it. They called me to the table half an hour later and I was surprised by their sweet healthy lunch choices. They had chopped a bowl full of vegetables to dip in hummus and made sandwiches filled with their own eccentric flavour combinations.
My Sandwich Surprise contained lashings of Laughing Cow, peppered with quartered black olives. It's not a marriage of ingredients that would have occurred to me, but it proved to be utterly delicious.
They unearthed these beautiful forgotten paper napkins from the cupboard and used them as place mats. We made polite grown-up conversation and I took a photo of them with their table to text to my husband who, unusually, was working nearly all weekend to try and finish a project.
Afterwards they brought in cups of thick Greek yoghurt to be sucked up with a straw, each decorated with a strawberry. It tasted of happiness and being cared for and I decided to write about it here so that none of the details will be allowed to trickle away and escape through the holes of the memory sieve.
What lovely things have you been trying to sellotape into the memory bank recently?
Postscript: They enjoyed it so much that they spent the rest of the day designing menus and when my husband eventually arrived home they ushered us to the dining table and served up three courses of our choosing. We sat and chatted for an hour and it was truly relaxing, the food was delicious and the service attentive, but not overbearing. To the surprise of our waiter and waitress we asked for a bill at the end of our meal and happily gave them £3. It was worth every penny.