I was a good little 50’s housewife today.

Replete with apron and self satisfied smirk.

Oh, I went the whole nine yards today, even helped out at school putting away fucking books sorting the readers in the reader room. For 2 and a half HOURS. Boo better get the teacher I want next year or I swear in front of God and all the internets that I will mess up that room GOOD.

Muttering death chants Dancing around the house with my feather duster, vacuum and mop, picking up after my little arseholes angels while seething and trying to ignore tending to my pathetic sick husband and daughter.

And there is more! Oh yes my lovelies, I cooked something for dinner that I have never ever cooked. Something that my kids have given up begging for cause I could never stomach making it.

Tripe? Black Pudding? Monkey brains?

Nope. Steak. Bletch. Mashed potatoes (OK but I prefer mashed sweet potato) and peas.

My aversion to great hunking slabs of animal flesh stems from my childhood.

My mother was a shite cook limited in her abilities in the kitchen. Her repertoire consisted of roast lamb on Sundays, apricot chicken (even the smell of apricot nectar sends me heaving) ‘mexican sausages’ (sausages boiled in tomato soup served with rice. Where is the freaking ‘mexican’ in there?) and either sausages or chops. So tough that we built up some pretty impressive arms cutting the bastards.

The sausages and chops were served with any combination of the following:

Home made chips. Sliced potatoes cooked in lukewarm oil till they were slightly warm and soggy and still raw in the middle. A pretty impressive feat really.

Mashed potato. I think she would lose interest halfway through mashing. So in reality potatoes with the shit boiled out of them and then slightly drained.

For a treat on a hot night we would have potato chips (or crisps).

Served with peas swimming in a sea of butter.

Sometimes Dad would go into the kitchen and make us omelette’s or pancakes.

Herbs were for hippies and spices were table salt and white pepper.

When I first left home I literally lived on spicy stirfries for a year!

So I have been living out of home since I was 18 and have never ever cooked a steak.

But today I was being the good little 50’s housewife, without the help of ‘Mothers little helper’ of my grandmothers day. Valium.

I did shopping, put it away, cleaned up after the little arseholes angels again and threw the hunking great lumps of bloody flesh on the George Forman.  Left the room a couple of times in disgust and then served it up to the salivating animals my darling family.

Too’s eyes lit up.  Moo swooned.  DH was jumping up and down with glee.

‘You are the best Mummy in the whole wide world’ exclaimed my carnivores as they gnashed their jaws on the pieces of cow.

I kept replaying that in my mind as I scrubbed George clean.

Then I made myself some toast.

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I will post the pictures of my new shoes tomorrow.

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