My Dad's still going with this soup-making fad then. He's bought himself an electronic soup-maker.
I've no idea. I'd guess it's like a heated blender?
The trouble is, he just can't seem to resist experimentation! It must be a chemistry thing - he's a retired scientist, living out a sort of pensioner's version of George's Marvellous Medicine.
I got home for lunch today to find a Perspex measuring jug simmering with an orange-coloured liquid, covered with an upturned plate.
"Soup for lunch is it?" I asked, warming my hands on the radiator.
"Yep. Potato, leek and er, lemon."
Oh. Lemon. That's... different... in a soup, I thought.
It certainly was. My Mum said it was alright if you dipped in a cracker, as long as the cracker was plastered with butter... and carried a chunk of cheddar. And maybe some ham.
Now I couldn't knock the texture. It was super-smooth, like wallpaper paste. The soup slid beautifully onto the spoon and delicately onto the tongue. Had it been simply potato and leek, I'd probably be downloading applications for Masterchef. Though I'm still confused about how it came out orange.
As it is, I'm sitting at my desk with lemony hiccups.
Is this what happens in retirement? Jigsaws and weird soup and repetitive chat about the weather?
Thankfully, the 'unusual isn't it' conversation was interrupted by the sound of mail tumbling through the letter box.
My Mum's blue badge has arrived. She's excited - it makes life a little easier if you can park closer to the doors. Soon, when she's able to drive again, I expect I'll be lunching alone while the Intrepids are gallivanting.
"I wonder where we can go first?" she said, twinkling.
"Ooh. Maybe we can get some ingredients from Aldi," said my Dad, shooting a sideways look at the soup maker.
I might have lunch in the office tomorrow.
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