Not Good Enough

Monday 13th September 2021

The Gay Mother launched an extraordinary attack on the apricots at luncheon. Tough. Even after six hours in the bottom oven. I thought of that other remarkable luncheon outburst which occurred at Braemar Mansions when Ivy said to Margaret Jourdain, ‘But it was agreed at breakfast that you would finish the already opened bottle of Cydrax which has gone flat.’

The Gay Mother set to to sieve the apricots, achieving a small bowl of silky purée for later use. She had already found some raspberries from Waitrose in need of improvement such as maceration and was later to condemn the onions to the compost heap for going soft on the outside. ‘What’s more, the Prince of Wales’s,’ she said.

A small box of Daz had been ordered but a huge one turned up.  ‘Far too much,’ the Gay Mother said. ‘Won’t it keep?’ I said. ‘Oh no, I don’t want all that.’ She’d already tried to get the land agent to take the carton away. But it wasn’t his brand. Or rather his wife’s. The box is still waiting in the lobby in case any passer-by will have it.

As a sausage dinner, the Gay Mother styled apple sauce, carrots and runner beans on the plate. The sausages were Howells’ best. All the other elements were self-grown and superb.

Daz: Does anybody Want it?

Daz: Does anybody Want it?

The Gay Mother's Sausage Supper with Self-Grown Apples (as sauce), carrots and Runner Beans

The Gay Mother’s Sausage Supper with Self-Grown Apples (as sauce), Self-Grown carrots and Self-Grown Runner Beans

Posted Monday, September 13, 2021 under Adrian Edge day by day.


  1. An old family saying from Alexandria is “Boukra fil mish-mish” – meaning: tomorrow, when the apricots are ripe; i.e., never.
    Used like “mañana”.

    Love the sausage styling!

  2. I never knew that apricot’s not ripening was a world-wide problem

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