Over the weekend, I went to Melbourne and the mister went to visit his family who live a fair way along the Sturt Highway. He took the children and I took the plane.
Through a string of circumstances which we do not need to detail here (but just how good is it being the one totally not at fault) the fridge – the large white humming thing which, when on, keeps food fresh, but, when off for any extended length of time acts as a watermelon fermenter – was off from Friday evening until the mister’s return late yesterday afternoon.
Without fresh food of any description the day – the first of the school holidays – has been difficult. To say the least. Also, we are staying indoors, as advised by the people on the radio, because there has been an explosion at a paint factory. It’s a fair way away from us (a 10-15 minute drive at least), but, you know, better to be safe than sorry.
I have been teaching my eldest boy to knit. I will tell you more about that another day. Right now, I am too weak from hunger to type any more.
…oh to be faultless in such a debacle.
Last time you came to Melbourne WITHOUT TELLING US, I believe Cast Iron Helen threatened to slap you.
You don’t learn, do you?
*slap!*
Faultless might be slightly inaccurate. Slightly.
Helen, Suse: I’m sure youse know that we do not hit in this house. Or slap.