Things you shouldn't say

Dear father, please do not decide you are taking us all out for a meal when I am half way through cooking dinner, including a very expensive joint of lamb.  I am very grateful that you postponed taking us out until tomorrow and I am glad that you did actually enjoy my efforts.  I will definitely be incredibly grateful tomorrow.   

Actually I was tactful and suggested that everywhere would be shut today.  I also feel grateful that the roast lamb, mash and roast, roast beetroot and cauli went down well.  DH was very happy with it and father not only cleared his plate but took some of bear's leftovers.  It still means I am shuffling around the mental meal plans, but one less dinner I have to cook is a really good thing.

I am also a little unimpressed that father has requested pickled beetroot.  Every time I have made pickles they have turned out lovely and then no-one has eaten them because no-one bothers with pickles.  After DH watched The Allotment on BBC2 he is convinced that making jam should be no trouble and I should do some at once.  I am not convinced I am safe around boiling sugar.  Besides, the only person that really eats jam is bear who remembers about jam roughly once a month and if I am going to open a jar for it just to go moldy then I may as well use the Morrisons 29p a jar strawberry rubbish.  I can't make jam for that price.  When my brother suggested yesterday that I could take a jam pan home he nearly heard some rude words.

btw in the nineteenth century they made 'strawberry' jam from rhubarb with flavouring in factories to sell in shops, and to add to the authenticity they used to stamp out the 'seeds' from wood and stir them into the 'strawberry' jam.  When the first laws about food purity and description came in and forced them to make strawberry jam from actual strawberries there was a bit of an outcry because a lot of people had actually preferred the fake stuff.  There was also a lot of huffing and puffing about the people who stamped out the 'seeds' from wood losing their jobs.  There is nothing quite so odd as people.

(Actually, DH is very clued up about the jam, but he is gently pulling my leg.  Fortunately bear hasn't got into the idea.  I don't like the idea of him stirring the jam pan!)