Feeding The Kids

Feeding The Kids 2016 ©

By Michael Casey

Some of us are housewives, I am a housewife, not just because I like cross dressing, with a piny and droopy stockings and only one suspender holding just the right leg up, and no its not some form of kinky Freemason initiation stuff. The Freemasons would never have me, as Groucho Marx said, any club with me in it is not worth belonging to. Though I am available for after dinner speaking, emphasis on the free dinner, just in case anybody out there needs a speaker, 300 And Not OUT has plenty of material for any after any dinner speaking as do the other books.

Now I was side-tracked, you lot would put any writer off his stride, I have to go and sharpen my pencil before  I resume, or maybe I’ll just switch to crayon. Being at home means  you get to spend more time with the kids. Personally I consider that to be a blessing, growing up my dad was always working in the steel works, so as children we didn’t see as much of him as we would have liked, though Love wise it was a Deep Love, my own dad was my best friend.

Dad could not boil an egg as mum was always there to look after his belly, and the bellies of all her kids and a cat and a dog. So now decades later I am feeding my 2 girls it makes me smile when I think back to my dad’s time. As always kids come home and look in the fridge and say there is nothing to eat and that I’m starving them. They eat rice daily as they are half Shanghai Chinese, so if there is nothing in the fridge, according to them , they immediately look up Amnesty International on the internet, so they can start a campaign to fill our fridge. And as I’ve forgotten to have chocolate in the house, can there be a torchlight procession through the streets.

I say you have eggs, we can have them scrambled or hard boiled, for perfect farting, they look at me in disgust as if egg was a dirty word. I say we can add beans, Heinz beans, the best beans to the eggs, for even better farting, they look at me as if Heinz is a dirty word. So I say I have some Polish bread from the corner shop, I could turn it into French toast, with Heinz beans on the side, they just look at me in disgust, they don’t want a geography lesson.

If they wanted a geography lesson they’d ask that Mr Corbyn on the telly, he IS a geography teacher after all. Or even Mrs May the PM, didn’t she do geography at Oxford, this enabled her to Navigate to Birmingham and the Party Conference, and then to Downing Street, wasn’t Downing where daddy’s brother went to Uni?

So eggs are out, at least they are not off. So I say I have fish fingers, I bet they are cold you should put gloves on daddy they say in unison. They are nice with peas and some bread and butter. I add nonchalantly I do have a new Aldi hot chocolate drink. Redemption, Amnesty International can cancel that street march, and stop weaving barbed wire into candles.

So fish finger sandwiches with peas are tonight’s dinner, the peas fall out of the sandwiches and bounce around the floor, Totoro thinks its great sport and she eats them too. So the cat is fed as well while I retreat to watch the news on the computer. Of course I have many menus I can exploit, and there is Iceland, the shop not the country. Cottage pie and lasagne are instant belly fillers, all you have to do is cook it slowly, it’s always 30 mins to an hour longer to cook than the packet says.

The trick in cooking is, just open the oven door and look inside and spin the food so all angles get cooked. If you follow this advice religiously then you too will have a Michelin star.  My  small daughter make it from an old toilet tube and silver paper, then she glued it to the fridge, only Totoro is addicted to glue so she licked it off. That’s why my Michelin star is not mentioned in The Times Best Eateries List.

Tomorrow they will have lamb chops, only because I found them in the wife’s side of the fridge, we are one family divided by fridge doors, and wrapping paper with Chinese writing on. I do of course have roast potatoes to go with the chops, all I have to do is to cook them for double the time it says on the wrapper, and remember to open the oven door often to keep an eye on them.

Sometimes mum takes us out for a meal at the weekend, and guess what she picks English Food.

enjoy the photos, with a face like mine I should be on Radio, www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com to HEAR ME reading my stories