You’ll have to forgive me for my absence over the last few weeks and for the fact that, for the next few weeks I’ll either be writing about things I made a while ago or that someone else has made for me. Because I’ve got a bloody fractured wrist.
A bloody fractured right wrist, to be precise (yes, I’m right-handed) and I can’t cook a thing. Not only can I not cook, I can barely open the milk (try unscrewing the top off one of those plastic cartons, and removing the protective film one-handed), can’t spread butter on toast (the toast moves and my left wrist just can’t get the hang of a knife) and am reduced, when alone, to eating whatever I can tip out of a packet (washed salads are featuring highly). I have finally understood what, or who, ready meals are for. Continue reading