I am fuming in a primeval, even evil way. I prepared an extra large amount of mince for us last night which always involves more chopping, more washing, more diminishing light management and inhalation of smoke that you can conceive. (Cooking over an open wood fire in a mud hut kitchen is a different sort of cooking.) I added this and that, including some specially imported Italian herb mix and a few precious bay leaf, plus the only hard carrot left etc. Anyway we had it last night (HALF of it) and it was delicious.
Food management is hard here, everything is bought on to the reserve and then tentatively maintained between monkey proof containers and a fridge operated by gas, which is temperamental and needs lots of checking and de-sooting.
Well – I have been working all morning preparing visitor notes and feel a warm sense of achievement, they stretch to 5 pages. I convince D that he should prepare us a simple lunch and after discussion we agree fruit and muesli. My bowl is offered up...and he has none. Why? Oh, I have had noodles and mince. What mince? The one we had last night. The mince, my carefully prepared and beautifully maturing mince that was going to provide a whole perfect favourite meal...for two, for you and ME. Yes that mince. What it is ALL gone – yes.
Yes I am fuming – it may seem strange but this has really unsettled me. It has dragged on the primitive cave wife. I had settled into other daily chores safe in the knowledge that the larder was full. And now the cave man has eaten all the mince! Well I have brewed to boiling point and tried to elicit a response, which goes like this: ‘I will mend my selfish ways’...and he finally says it in a small inconsequential and disappearing voice - but he says it. He better or I will have to do the hunting and build my own larder with a hand-crafted but deadly lock on it!
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