Spoke too soon regarding the WN and the cremated eggs. She appears to have taken the hint and has now begun to favour grilling foodstuffs.
Sadly last evening it was cheese on toast bunged on the grill immediately after Lovely One had dined on that British staple of grilled sausages.
Needless to say, whilst the WN was knitting, (I have seldom seen anyone with such an expression of intent since Einstein discovered the theory of wossnames) the Underground Lair went up.
She shot out into the kitchen like a thing possessed having flung aside the knitting, and proceeded to open the front door.
‘Don’t do that,’ hollered Lovely One, ‘last time I did that the whole block went off!’
As it is, the elderly and infirm now congregate in the car park as soon as the WN gets home in case she’s cooking.
Open went the French doors and all the windows and yet another ‘morning breeze’ scented candle burned down to it’s wick.
Any road up, all that is left of the debacle is a charred offering that the Blackbirds in the back garden have turned their beaks up at and a tiny black hand print on the extractor fan.
‘The thing is,’ she said, ‘I can’t promise I won’t do it again!’
‘You are a disaster looking for somewhere to happen,’ countered One.
But having said that, the amusement factor is fab!!