Fish Fingers for tea...

I have been scatty this week, the most important job I had to do was an on-line food shop. I forgot. The cupboards are bare, Mr H fears starvation, I have hidden the biscuits for me!

I adore on line grocery shopping, I sit in my rocking chair while I choose from my favourites, then my laptop checkout seals the deal. The whole process takes me ten minutes. The delivery arrives the next day and a handsome man brings the crates into the kitchen and plonks them down on my arm level work surface.Ten minutes later it is all in the cupboards, the kettle is on and I am sitting down again munching biscuits. 

I have considered opening cupboards, fluttering my eyelashes and pointing to where it all goes...but time is of the essence he has other deliveries to make.

I hide all the treats from Mr H. He loves me when I drip feed him the odd chocolate or biscuit. He will never know that he only sees a tiny proportion of the treats I buy, I trust you with my secret!

...But today I have to go to the shops. When Mr H arrives home from work I have the bags and list ready. At the supermarket Mr H pushes the trolley, I have tried to push but people stare when like a petulant child my left leg constantly kicks the wheel.

I read out the items we need and Mr H walks up and down the aisles while I, like a dog needing a wee, lean against displays. I spot the Fish Fingers, they are reduced, I drop a box of 20 into the trolley, that will cover several meals,  I am not known for my culinary prowess. 

By the fourth aisle my huffs and puffs alert Mr H that I am flagging,  I feel sick, a sure sign that a seizure hovers  We aim for the checkouts, my rocking chair is replaced by the hard plastic seats as I wait for Mr H to pack. I pay.

At home I start my Dawn, Nigella Lawson special; Fish Fingers, oven chips and peas. Heaven...