Good Morning All
Well, that was lovely. Two whole days of spring sunshine and today we are back to normal. Grey and threatening drizzle. In fact, it has started to rain.
Richards ‘other’ love is sitting out in it. Shame. Nice weather brings the motorbike out of storage and Richard uses it for work, preferring to abandon me an hour earlier than necessary and going for a ‘ride round’ before work. It is a bloody great lumbering thing – the bike, not Richard – although? Usually it is kept covered, garaged and pampered, but it is a bit of a struggle for him to put it to bed when he gets home at 10.00 pm.
If you remember I mentioned in a post a few weeks ago that Richard had suggested buying a stove like Ade Edmondson’s, in Ade In Britain, so that he could cook ‘up at his summerhouse.’ I had squashed that stupid idea by informing him that he could only cook oven chips and to forget it. He then had the brilliant idea of retrieving his new and precious Cadac from the attic and using that. I offered no argument.
Two days ago, in the middle of our super heat-wave the Cadac was found and brought down from the attic. A Cadac, for those of you who have never come across such a wonder of creation, is pretty much like a barbecue, stands on three legs, has a removable griddle, wok etc etc and runs off gas. Obviously, after ‘setting it up’ at the side of his summerhouse (shed) he wanted to go a step further and disappeared to go rummaging through the deep freeze for something to cook on it. He returned with stir-fry and salmon. The stir-fry was OK but the salmon proved to be cod.
I kindly produced a few wild garlic leaves and chives and took my seat and waited. And waited …
The stir-fry had virtually disappeared by the time the frozen fish had cooked and the whole thing looked rather … different. On the whole, for Richard, I have to say it was a success. This might sound strange. But trust me. It was a success. This is Richard’s second Cadac. The first one died very prematurely. And this is what happened …
We spent a weekend camping with Richards sister and her family (before she decided I was a stroppy cow and fell out with us!) and Richard, being Richard, decided to erect his new Cadac and cook everyone a barbie – that’s cue not doll! Even Richard isn’t quite that weird.
With steaks and sausages and other dead flesh spitting and burning he performed his little show, in-between swigging gut-rot cider and telling ‘Richard’ jokes, which are really best avoided unless you have recently emptied your bladder. With his eye firmly on the bottom of his upturned cider bottle it was moments before he or anyone else noticed that the Cadac was shrinking and slowly tipping.
Half choking and in slow motion Richard lunged forwards grabbing the steaks as they slid off the grill, burning his hands, and shouting, ‘f**k me, an earthquake!’
Everyone else stared in horror as the whole thing collapsed into a bubbling, melted heap, sending black, toxic smoke belching across the camp site.
Obviously the idiot had put the thing together wrong, allowing the flame to burn through the plastic stand and the whole thing had tipped and dissolved into the grass like the Wicked Witch of the West.
So, all things considered, the second Cadac was a success and lives to cook again … and so does Richard. He is taking a holiday next week and has already informed me that we can pop to Morrison’s and stock up on masses of barbie stuff and eat outdoors every day next week. I just nodded. Best to just nod – sometimes.
Take care my lovelies x