When the pigs were alive I refused to name them in case I got too attached. For the same reason I preferred not to know which two were Nellybert's. But now they're in the freezer I've got names for them. They're called Pinky & Perky.
I'm feeling very cranky these days. It has just dawned on me that the price of food has sky-rocketed. Consequently I'm getting very pissed off when food is wasted. It wasn't so bad when Pinky, Perky and the others took care of the odd leftover but there's only so much the chickens can eat. And they're a shower of bastards anyway for they always find some new sneaky place to hide their eggs. I'll put that nonsense out of them this year when I get them into a run.
Last year's attempts at controlling the chickens was a total disaster. I don't know what possessed Bert to believe that a four foot fence would keep them in. Sure the feckers roost six to eight foot off the ground.
And speaking of total disasters.... I despair of Bert. He is the numero uno candidate at wasting food. He always prepares too many spuds. I don't know why. He said it's a family thing. Maybe they were always expecting a passing tramp to call in for a feast of cold potatoes. These extras rarely get used and are thrown to the useless hens. Which was all very well in the olden days when his father grew potatoes every year but not so good when I'm carting them out of the town at great labour and expense.
And another thing. Milk. Bert never buys it. He forgets we don't have a cow. Yet he drinks a load of it. At dinner he always drinks a glass of milk. Then he always leaves at least a third of it. I suppose I could use it again but somehow I don't fancy it after he's been slabbering through it.
So what set me off this evening? Well ... I came home starving as usual and there were Bert and Hannah poring through a pile of cookery books. What were they up to? Looking for a recipe for chili-con-carne. Bert starts assembling the ingredients. Everything is there. We even have fresh chillies. (Thanks Zoe) I go to see Pearlie. I get back half an hour later to find Hannah ripping the cardboard of a Tesco quiche and Bert defrosting tuna steaks. What happened to the chili-con-carne? The mince was in the freezer. Huh!
So I had grilled tuna, plain boiled potatoes and for veg - a cold tomato. Bert cannot be arsed with vegetables y'see. Too much trouble and aren't potatoes a vegetable anyway? It was a dreary dinner. Afterwards I found three small, expensive and organic boiled potatoes sitting in a (thankfully clean) ashtray on the kitchen sill. I made potato pancakes. Then Bert said he wasn't hungry so I hid his (rotten shop-bought) currant squares. He is under instructions to eat those potato pancakes tomorrow fried with a slice of Pinky or Perky. He'd better.