Well it was Wee Georgie Frogspawn's big day and it looks like he blew it. So I won't bother with that just now.
My "alleged" daughter, I've not had her DNA tested yet, had a Cookery lesson at school today. Chicken pies was the task.
Arriving home from work, Monkeygirl is on hand to display her culinary handiwork. They looked OK, golden pastry, smiley face motif, the rest of the class had decorated theirs with pastry leaves, as per teachers instructions. The girl shows some individuality, the force may be strong in this one.
Thing is I really don't like meat pies of any description. It's probably fair to say that I'd rather snog a yak than eat a meat pie. But a dad's got to do what a dad's got to do. And if it gets me out of doing the cooking for a night.......
A little later I'm called to the dinner table, The Boy, knowing what was on the menu had made himself scarce, binge drinking or glue sniffing with his mates in town probably, damned coward.
I took my seat, Monkeygirl smiling at me expectantly. I grasped my battling irons firmly and cut into my pie, putting a forkful into my mouth I thought of England, Land of Hope and Glory starts playing in my head, I felt my upper lip stiffen.
I chewed, cut more and chewed, bloody hell it was good. That fearful pie was one of the most delicious things I have eaten in a long time.
They had taught Monkeygirl how to make this superb Chicken Pie from base ingredients in an ordinary school after 13 years of labour "government". They must be doing something right. Mind it's a pity she can't read, write or add up.
Anyhow, I can hear the ingredients of a Long Island Iced Tea calling me and I no longer care how badly Wee Georgie has blown it.