I quite often tell the story of when Bee went off to university for the first time, and had to share a flat with seven other students. In that entire flat of eight apparently grown up people, Bee was the only one who knew how to use a washing machine.
Isn’t that shocking??
On the one hand I was proud, but on the other, kind of embarrassed on their behalf. How had these young adults grown up without being taught how to do basic tasks around the house? It quickly became clear that what they lacked in washing machine skills, they most definitely did NOT make up for in the kitchen.
Teaching children how to do things for themselves like cooking, cleaning, catching trains and generally taking care of themselves, is surely what parenting is all about? Yes, you have to look after them a bit, and make sure they don’t walk into roads and stuff, but ultimately your goal is to equip them with the skills to function as an independent adult, not shelter them from all responsibility. If your child goes off to university never having used a washing machine, then something has gone wrong.
It’s one of the reasons I really like trying out recipe box schemes like Gousto.
Gousto is the compromise between simply handing your child a hardback Delia Smith and a Tesco Clubcard, and driving yourself mad trying to cook delicious yet wholesome meals for a whole family EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. Instead you get to cook from scratch, but without the hassle of having to decide what to make or go shopping for ingredients. View Post
Created in association with Heinz
I’ve always had this morbid fantasy about what’s going to happen when I die.
(Bear with me…)
In my mind I picture a scene a bit like this one in Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey. I imagine that once I’ve answered a series of questions to confirm it’s me, that I’ll be given a huge book full of statistics on everything I’ve ever done – number of hours spent asleep – 233,601; number of sandwiches from school packed lunches that I’ve thrown away at 3.30pm – 3,296 – that sort of thing. Some of it might be in graph form, because whoever is in charge will appreciate that I like a good graph.
Under the category ‘Family Teas > 1995 – 2010 > Tinned’ I expect there to be a fairly substantial entry for spaghetti hoops. Or, as it has always been known here, ‘ghetty’. (A bit like the images but without the hefty legal bills.)
With Alphabetti Spaghetti limited to special occasions only, number one in the chart would definitely be Heinz Spaghetti Hoops.
There is just something wonderful isn’t there about the way you can gather them up on your fork? I remember quite vividly as a child the thrill of lining them up neatly on every other prong, so as not to crowd them, and seeing how many I could fit on before an adult said ‘stop messing about with your hoops and just eat your tea.’
Both of my children have always loved Heinz Spaghetti Hoops. A tin of Heinz Hoops is a staple in our cupboard – a sure-fire way to please everyone when they were small.
I ask Belle what she likes most about Heinz Hoops. View Post
I’m a sucker for pretty packaging.
If it wasn’t for the fact that I am normally following the rule of second crappest when I’m in the supermarket, I could easily spend twice as much as necessary just because I like how things look. I spent about THREE times as much as I should have done on smoked paprika recently just because I liked this tin:
It’s easily done isn’t it?
And this mustard! (I don’t even LIKE mustard.) View Post
In association with Crock-Pot
I’ve never owned any sort of slow cooker.
I’m surprised really, as you’d think it would be right up my street – chuck it all in on pot, minimum effort etc. I love all that. But no, it is only now at the ripe old age of 39 that I have popped my slow cooker cherry.
I now own a Crock-Pot. ( A Crock-Pot 4.7L Digital Countdown Slow Cooker to be precise.)
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was certainly something a little more complex than ‘plug it in, switch it on.’ I unpacked it, disposed sensibly of all the packaging, and got out the instruction booklet, ready to get to grips with the functionality.
‘Place the stoneware into the heating base,’ said the instructions, which caught me off guard straightaway as I wasn’t expected the dish to be so sturdy and wholesome. ‘Add your ingredients and cover with the lid. Plug in your Crock-Pot slow cooker.’
So far so good. View Post
Belle likes to play a game with me called ‘Would You Rather?’
‘Would you rather,’ she asks, ‘have a hand chopped off or a foot?’ She is jolly like that.
‘Which hand?’ I counter, because I’m pedantic.
‘Left,’ she says.
‘I’ll probably lose the hand then,’ I say. ‘But if it was two hands versus two feet then I’d sacrifice the feet.’
We have fun.
Weight Watchers set me a similar challenge recently. Would I rather spend a Friday night in cooking a chicken jambalaya from scratch, or popping a Weight Watchers chilled prepared chicken jambalaya in the oven while I chillaxed with a face mask and spot of Netflix?
(Can you guess which I might choose??)
Here I am talking a little bit about how I got on. This is the cheat’s version, for if you don’t have time to read the rest of the post because you haven’t discovered Weight Watchers meals in the chilled aisle, and you’re slaving away in the kitchen.
(Plus I’m in a face mask for some of it, which surely makes it worth watching if only for comedy value?)