*flops in exhaustion*

I have just spent the entire evening cooking enough to feed a small, easy-going army...because I got home to find my freezer door ajar. Again.

I've started keeping Rowan's Frubes yoghurts in the freezer, as then it can defrost through the morning and still be nice and cold come lunchtime. This morning was something of a rush, for reasons I'll explain presently, and I asked Rowan to get the yoghurt for his lunchbag himself. I didn't notice before we left that he hadn't closed the door properly *headsdesk*

Some of the stuff in my freezer remained frozen - as far as I could tell, anyway - but there was about a drawer and a half of stuff that looked too far gone. So I've been cooking it all up, trying to salvage what I could.

I made something resembing a bolognase, a chicken and bacon stir-fry, and a stir-fry mix of egg fried rice, poached cod and prawns. While I was making that lot, I was boiling peas and sweetcorn, and baking potato faces, an almost full bag of fish fingers, chicken nuggets, fish cakes, onion rings, breaded mushrooms... I even had my little table-top oven cooking up a bag of sausages.

And I had to do all this while occasionally answering the telephone to other parents, calling to accept the invitations to Rowan's birthday party a week on Saturday.

There were a couple of items where I thought "Sod it!" and just threw them in the bin, and the things I couldn't chuck together as a meal to store in the fridge found their way to the table where Rowan picked at them for his dinner. Not the most healthy of evening meals, alas, but I didn't exactly have much choice tonight. Besides, he's mostly eaten a large bowl of peas and sweetcorn, picking at the potato faces and fish fingers - so it's not as bad as it seems, really!

It's been a nightmare travel-wise this week, and it's not going to get better any time soon. Apparently on Tuesday night there was an incident on the motorway near me, involving a crane colliding with a bridge. This particular bridge is the one on Penylan Hill, which is part of the bus route to town. Our bus stop to get Rowan to school is right at the bottom of the hill. However, as you can expect, they've had to close that section of the hill while they check the structual integrity of the bridge. So the bus service is trying to compensate for this, but when you're in the middle of rush hour, any diversion you may decide to use will be full of other commuters. It took us an hour to get Rowan to school Wednesday morning, mostly 'cause of the bumper to bumper traffic along Roath Park lake. This morning we left the house much earlier, in the hope of not being late - we got to school on time, thank goodness, but then the teachers made me late by not opening the doors on time *facepalms*

Well, time to get Rowan to bed - if he tries to tell me he's hungry, after everything I cooked, there will be pain...

And I am so not washing the dishes tonight *collapses*

Podcast!

Okay, so I is sad, and decided that since the little story I wrote was just so very Welsh, it could do with being read out by someone with a Welsh accent.

Now, this doesn't mean that I put on a thicker accent to read it because me and accents? Forget it. But I do have something of an accent, even if the Cardiff accent isn't quite as bad as Frank Hennessy would have you believe *kicks the inventor of the fake 'Kairdiff' accent*

So here you go - hope it's not too abysmal!


(I will eventually upload it to my own webspace for a permanent link....just not tonight *snoozes*

And finally....

A picspam before I go collapse in bed!

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