I set out for work this morning full of good intentions about what I was going to cook and eat tonight. But then my three-hour meeting turned into an eight-hour one and, although it was a very rare meeting because it was interesting, challenging and I learnt something, all I could think about in the supermarket on the way home was, well, wtf is the fastest thing possible?
And then I saw the tell-tale queue and little red stickers and I knew my stomach and temper were saved. Just after 7pm, which is usually when I walk through the shop after my commute looking for inspiration, my local shop reduces some of its prices. And recently I noticed that the price of a hot, beautifully moist, herby, buttery chicken is often halved in the rotisserie. Tonight it was so over-stocked that they had reduced the price even further, from £5 or so to 99p. Reader, I bought two. Hey, it’s cheaper than cat food and why not treat them as well as myself?!
When I got home all I needed was some salt and pepper, a plate and some salad. How to make a cat (one of them, of course, turned his nose up) and myself happy for very little expense or effort.