Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The ultimate compliment

The rhubarb cake went down well. (In that no-one took a bite and spat it out or complained - and believe me there are some that would.) Sean said, 'That cake was good; you can make that again.'
'Thank you. The rhubarb was home-grown.'
'Rhubarb? I don't like rhubarb. I thought it was apple.'

Last week I took some lasagne in for Gerry. He'd been asking me (Lasagne Lady) when we'd be having it again. Last night he thanked me for it again and said to Blossum, 'I'd have married her just for her lasagne. And if I'd married her for her lasagne I wouldn't be an alcoholic now.'

And perhaps he'd have remembered my name as well. (I wouldn't mind but he knows everyone else's.)

1 comment:

Furtheron said...

Don't eat Rhubarb - allergic to it.

Unfortunately the lyrics for Lasagne Lady didn't work.. the song became Golden Moments

I might return to the pasta idea again... I was trying to write something about a relationship from a man's perspective where he has learnt about all the layers of his Lasagne Lady... Well I thought it a neat construct... just couldn't get it to work yet.