'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.)