After I'd assured her that all was well and that David was upstairs trying on his monster costume, she made vague reference to the fact that she'd been invited across to Mrs Talley's for dinner tonight and asked what I had planned "for supper". How I hate that word. That and "frock". Both make me wince involuntarily. Anyway.
"Kebabs" I said without thinking, eyeing up the succulent raw lamb escalopes, wholemeal pittas and copious amount of salad piled on the table. Sharp intake of breath "Kebabs?" she thundered, managing to give the word fifteen syllables.
I paused to think about what she were thinking about and just managed not to elucidate further and make reference to organic lamb, fresh pittas and the gigantic iceberg lettuce rolling around the table courtesy of Junior Dog who was playing beneath said table. "Yes. Kebabs" I said mischeviously. "Got to go Amelia, they're getting cold"
Now that I've left her thinking that I'm feeding her precious son and cherubic grandson processed "lamb", saturated fat and chilli sauce with rancid salad I'm off to chop some tomatoes and light the grill.