Young Max has come to visit for a couple of days during which time, as usual, anything can happen. This, nine times out of ten, means that whilst I am pottering away proof-reading on the computer, or some such activity, I am subjected to the playing of an eclectic mix of weird and wonderful (or not so wonderful – to my ears at any rate) music from the sitting room. And last night was no exception. There is no accounting for taste and, like the oft-used saying ‘beauty lies in the eye of the beholder’, the choice of music was clearly ‘music to their ears’, but more a form of torture for mine. Ah well, all is almost solved by donning the headphones, if only to blot out the background noise - they are good, although not 100% successful - at that.
So while Jon and Master Blake shouted at each other across the room, rather than just turning the volume down slightly to enable them to chat in normal tones, I smiled with gritted teeth at the yelled schoolboy discussions; dialogue that would not have been out of place at the back of a classroom of twelve-year olds, with accompanying sniggers and guffaws.
In the early hours of this morning, the inevitable happened. They were both struck down with a bad case of....the munchies.
Jon persuaded Max that cheese would be a good idea. So off Max toddled to the kitchen. And then began a debate between him and me as to whether I would like some too. I have to admit that I folded in the end. After at least five minutes of me declining such provinder and Max not moving from the kitchen doorway until I changed my mind, I took the easy way out. I said ‘yes’, with a fair amount of fear and trepidation in my voice as to what I would end up with. After a fairly long period of time, and after quite a bit of clanking around in the kitchen, young Master Blake reappeared at the kitchen doorway to enquire as to whether I would like round or square.
Being as quick-witted as I am, I realised immediately that he was actually enquiring as to whether I wished square or round crackers to accompany this forced-meal of cheese. “Square, please,” came my reply.
I was not quite sure what reaction to display when a plate with two slices of Stilton, spread rather viciously and haphazardly with butter before being placed unceremoniously onto one side of a medium sized plate, was presented to me. No square cracker, not even a round one, was apparent. When this was pointed out, we went through the ‘square’ or ‘round’ discussion again. And off he toddled once more, to return with one square cracker adorned with two small slices of Brie. Then he disappeared upstairs to ‘pump ship’ as my ex-father-in-law used to say (a naval term I am led to believe). Some while passed and he didn’t return. I was beginning to wonder whether he had either fallen asleep in the bathroom or had just taken himself off to bed.
But no. He eventually re-appeared, only to run off with the snack that Jon had prepared for himself in the meantime.
It was at this point that I decided the best course of action for me to take was to let Prudence out for her bedtime sprinkle and retire for the night.
But did I eat the cheese and square cracker? As ever, I like to have photographic evidence of such occasions - just in case of any future blackmail opportunities you understand - so, after taking one look at the pictures below, what would you have done?
I am not sure how this small stray lump of Stilton
got separated from the rest - perhaps best not to ask.
As my mother would have said to the two recalcitrants in the sitting room ....."you should take more water with it next time." Wise words indeed.
