the usual

It's that time of week again. Auntie comes in from the village, Nan from the town. I'm playing tennis in the garden. My brother is kicking a ball around. Dad is making a barbeque. Mum is cooking the lunch. A crowded table; full benches, the gabble of meanless chitchat. "So, what did you do at school this week, Chris?" "Got any boyfriends recently, Charlotte?" Cringe. Waiting for ten minutes. Tick Tock. Time goes by... So slowly... Finally. The Aga door is opened and the smell of cooked meat, sizzling potatoes and bubbling gravy wafts around the kitchen. The veg are at the ready, gently simmering on the hop. Carrots. Swede. Cabbage. The carrots are drained, the swede mashed. The cabbage left to stand. Mint sauce mixed up, redcurrant jelly. Sat at the table, waiting for the banquet. Tick Tock. It'll all get better in time... At last. Plates on the table, filled to the brim with roast lamb, roast spuds, steamed carrots, mashed swede and boiled cabbage. All sit down, ready to tuck in. "Oops... forgot the gravy!" Thick, brown gravy is poured out, steaming into Dad's face. The slight slip of his hand. The clatter of the gravy tin as in hits the floor. The swears of my parents as the gravy splatters up the sie of the cream cupboards. The giggles of my brother. The "Oh, the gravy!" from the oldies. My sigh. The gravy. Cleared up, food eaten, dessert out and ready to eat. Rhubarb Meringue Pie. Marks & Spencer recipe, homemade by us. Mmmmm. The soft, crisp meringue topping, as light as the down of a freshly preened swan. The pastry: soggy yet firm at the same time - golden and crubling beneath the weight of the... Rhubarb. Pink like jewels, yet green as grass. Juice dripping out of the crust: a soft, rose-coloured liquid, yet clear as glass. A cut. Juice squirts out, a pool forming on the plate. Cream dolloped on the side, a stiff, white, mountain peak. Rhubarb syrup gently drizzled on top: the blood red lips to Snow White's fair skin. Five Minutes. That's all it takes. The plate clear, tummies full. Compliments to the chef. Compliments from the chef. Mmmmmm.