I missed it, yesterday the cupids drew back their bows and the seraphim decreed from on high that romance was in the air. O come o ye faithful and rejoice in the warmth of our love, bask in our glory and be sheltered in the palm of our hand. As per normal my mind was pondering the greater mysteries of the universe and the day in question passed me by, I’m not saying I’m dead set against the idea of formulating a gesture to shake the foundations of the earth to her very core, I’m not saying that the age of chivalry has faded to naught but a memory, I’m not saying that diamonds aren’t a girls best friend. I’m just saying that I was otherwise occupied. The flat required a quick once over, Pointless was on followed by Eggheads, fresh air beckoned with the promise of respite from the cellular abode where I currently find myself.
This is not to say I did not have a fine and dandy time on my tod, I had planned for such an eventuality long ago and today was the day my all my schemes fell into place. I’m nothing if not thorough; first things first I slept into to about four o’clock in the afternoon – take that Eros and play thy mind games else where. Second on my list was my daily does of exercise, a quick run along the way should blow away those cobwebs and last but not least was to scour the aisle of my local purvey of fancy goods and identify the choicest morsels for my plate.
With the hard part done it was time for the trek back to my solitary confinement of my flat and the roaring heat of the stove. All the ingredients lay before me, a genuine cornucopia of earthly delights, a fest fit for a king, queen or indeed a tsar. Music blearing to appease the gods of rock I began foraging for a frying pan to deal with the offerings. None was forthcoming; a din, an almighty clamour and a clatter was raised in the search for the hallowed cooking implement but my search was in vain.
I’m not a heathen but drastic times call for drastic measures. Step forward Mr Microwave and Mr Standard-But-Not-A-Frying Pan-Pan, all this was not as hoped but beggars can’t be choosers and as we all know there is no use crying over spilt milk. All together this made for a tasty if not scrumptious Valentine day feast. Alas there where; no chocolates, no roses, no champagne, not even a sonnet or two but I did discover one salient piece of information that will stay with me for ever…
You can cook sausages in the oven. Who knew?