Too much of a good thing.....

I never thought I would say this “I AM SICK OF BLOODY TURKEY”. I’m serious. Dead serious. Now I can understand why all those TV chefs try and give you folk ideas on how to use turkey leftovers. I used to think, “Why do they want to do anything with the leftovers other than eat them au naturel. What’s wrong with turkey - plain and simple? Lucky them.”

At this moment in time, I would give my hind leg for a turkey curry. I’ve never had a curry but I’d give it a try. I’m starting to have nightmares about turkey. Last night I dreamt I was being chased by a turkey leg with the head of Madonna – the pop star not the religious lady (if you’ve not read my post of 26th December you will find that bizarre until you do read it).

Anyway, enough of that. I still have a leg and a wing to go. It's like a torture.

I think Uncle Hugh is also sick of bread.

Mum has gone into a bread-making frenzy with her bread-making machine. Let me explain something about mum. She doesn’t cook much. Uncle Hugh does all the cooking, ‘cause he’s good at it and he loves it. Mum does the housework and other stuff. That’s the arrangement, and it works for them. Another thing about mum – she’s not really qualified to do anything. She’s not a teacher, or a nurse, or a scientist, or a solicitor or anything like that. She used to say, “I’m a nothing” of “I’m a Jack of all trades.”

Mum did lots of things with Uncle Hugh in his businesses for a long, long time and Uncle Hugh says she was his right hand man. I don’t really know what he meant by that, ‘cause mum’s a lady. Perhaps it’s something to do with him being left-handed. Oh, I don’t know. You folk have strange little phrases that don’t always make sense, like “That takes the biscuit” and “It’s all swings and roundabouts” – I was there when mum tried to explain those to her French friend Stephanie - who ended up looking very baffled.

Anyway, I’m digressing.

So when mum finds something that she can do, and particularly if that something is really easy, then she tends to do it A LOT, until she gets bored. Perhaps it gives her a sense of worth. Well, she’s really mastered this bread-making thingumajig. All she has to do is throw some breadstuff in it, add cold water, press the ‘ON’ switch and in three hours and fifteen minutes (not exactly ‘Hey Presto’ is it?) it produces a perfect loaf. We now have ten loaves and she’s scratching her head wondering what to do with it. Mum doesn’t have a freezer – other than one of those little ones over the fridge, and that’s now full.

Can I just say – I am also sick of bread. Turkey and bread. NO MORE. PLEASE! NO MORE. You really can have too much of a good thing.