Tag Archives: kitchen

From turtles to a wish to weigh under ten stone (Rousse)

Posted on January 6, 2019 by

I left my school friend KC in charge of the mixed selection of beautiful green-striped turtles that were climbing up our side of the bath. This allowed me to drive south to collect my mother from my cousins’ house in … Continue reading →

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An incontinent dog (Rousse)

Posted on October 16, 2018 by

I regarded with suspicion the sticky wet yellow footprints on the lino in the kitchen of the flat that I rented to a bunch of students. Then I noticed a large white dog bouncing around the sitting room. Although I … Continue reading →

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Pea soup in confined space (Rousse)

Posted on August 20, 2018 by

In B & E’s tiny galley kitchen I cooked pea soup on a temperamental electric hob. B was so keen to try the green boiling concoction that he drank some straight from the pan. It was a miracle that he … Continue reading →

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Cousin colouring comparison check (Rousse)

Posted on August 2, 2018 by

GT  stuck his ginger head through the kitchen window of the log cabin in rural Canada. ‘Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?!’ he demanded to know. He had no idea that the ‘English squatters’ now … Continue reading →

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A sweary surgeon and a croft for sale in the Outer Hebrides (Rousse)

Posted on May 3, 2018 by

TPR and I parked out tatty car outside the lodge on RB’s massive estate. He’d paid for all this land and the mansion further up the drive with his earnings as an orthopedic surgeon. As anticipated, RB was not happy … Continue reading →

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A papier mâché model, a lost purse, and a problematic pub food policy (Rousse)

Posted on April 16, 2018 by

When I returned to work from sick leave I was less than impressed with my new office arrangements. I was to share room C75 with an office mate who had already moved into the room a bed as well as … Continue reading →

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A garden trespasser sausage chef (Rousse)

Posted on April 6, 2018 by

When I glanced through the bedroom window I saw a tall dark man cooking sausages on our barbecue in our garden. ‘Go get him!’ I ordered TPR. ‘No problem’, he replied, waving his axe in the air. While TPR charged … Continue reading →

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