We ran out of wine yesterday. Apart from the ritual bottle of champers sitting in the fridge waiting for the declaration of a rainy day, that is. And it wasn’t a rainy day at all, just a bit grey with greasy sun intervals.
Graham’s been taking an extra glass each evening, you see, so my calculations haven’t worked out this week.
So, shortly after six yesterday evening, an hour after sundown, we downed tools and went over to Tesco’s in Neath Abbey.
“This is going to make dinner rather late,” I said in my best melancholic tones as we passed through Cadoxton on the way there.
“We could always pick up something quick and easy while we’re there.”
“That’s a good idea. How about something nice with chips?”
“You’re not having chips. You’re on a diet.”
“Oh. Sorry. Thought you might have forgotten, what with all the sawing and fixing of chipboard you’ve done today.”
“Well, I haven’t. And neither should you.”
“Right-o. I’ll go for something along the lines of chicken breast in a light chasseur sauce then. With boiled potatoes.”
“That’s more like.”
So that is what we did. Or I did. Either way we finished off the bottle of Italian chardonnay we found at a good price and Graham wiped his plate clean at the end of the meal.
“Was that alright, then?” I asked.
“Not bad at all. What’s for dessert?”
“Lemon tartine.”
“Yummity.”
With added chipboard
