I do not rate or subscribe to Father's Day, believing it to be an invention of the Americans, from whom all bad stuff usually comes, and the Greetings Card manufacturers, ditto. Every year I get totally scuppered because it falls on or around my husband's birthday. This year the old man is 76 on Monday the 21st so it was inevitable that the children and other rellies started asking if I was "doing anything"on the Sunday (Fathers Day). By "doing anything" they mean feeding and generally entertaining them.
We are decorating, well okay, HE is decorating, any entertaining is a bit fraught at the moment, so instead of the usual roast half a pig/sheep/cow or complete turkey with all the trimmings and more, we shall have a barbecue. The Son-in-Law aka Soon-to-be-Father will do the cooking honours . For 12 at the last count. (Number 2 daughter will be missing as she is organising a netball tournament that day).
The UFO's will be evacuated - we are soon to purchase a new freezer (Way hay!) and boy does this one need emptying. Costco will be visited for the burger-lovers. The endless unopened bottles of Reggae Reggae, Nando's and the like from the larder will also appear.
I am much taken with Nadia Sawalah's book which was gifted to me. It's one of those reads which just makes you want to assemble huge salads and invite half of the street round. I am hoping to have time to make up some new recipes from that.
Anne is donating Nigella's Ice Cream Cake because the kids have voted it their favourite pudding of all time. I am vacillating on others. So many choices, so little time.
And no-one but me will notice what a lot of work goes into an informal meal such as this . . . .
But it had better not rain.
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