Now my Daddy is no Gordon Ramsay. In fact, his ability in the kitchen is so far removed from Gordon Ramsey’s that it’s like someone sent Gordon’s ability on a long cruise to the antipodeans islands while Daddy’s ability sat shivering with shame in a small hut in Greenland. However, tonight Mummy was going out with her friend Sarah MacAvoy to see a musical that Daddy really didn’t want to see… which could have been any musical to be honest…but happened to be the ABBAtastic Mama Mia, so Daddy was cooking. Mummy is a great chef, can cook standing on her head, and is very good at looking in the fridge and the cupboard and making something amazing that looked like it should be in a magazine. Daddy, on the other hand, looks in the fridge, groans and either orders a takeaway or makes something that looks like it should be classified by the World Health Organisation . Tonight, sadly, he decided to have another go and be fearless in the kitchen… (I blame Delia) so we were served with a pasta bake consisting of baked beans, leftover mashed potato, chopped cabbage and tinned plums. Then after Daddy had tried some, and we had all recovered form the rather alarming noise he made, we had a takeaway. What a waste. He should have just cut out the middleman and ordered the curry to start with. Silly Daddy! Love him though. At least he tried!
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