Us Brits live for a Sunday roast and we’re no different in our house. Cooking is increasingly more difficult for me, it requires a lot of standing which is hard on my legs but I refuse to give it up. I never cooked until I was around 30ish, hated it, but now I absolutely love cooking and I don’t want to add it to the ever growing list of things I can’t do anymore.

So every week hubby goes to the butchers and picks up a joint of meat for our dinner. This particular week it was actually a whole chicken. My favourite! So I prepped all the veg, peeled the potatoes and got them on to boil and put the chicken in the oven. Set the table and sit (more like fucking slump!) down for 20 mins until the spuds are ready to roast. Hubby was happily pottering in the garage so all in all a good Sunday so far.

Once everything is cooked husband comes along to cut the chicken up. This is distinctly a “blue job” (a job for a man, as opposed to “pink” jobs which are for girls 🤷🏻‍♀️), especially now standing is so difficult and I don’t want to add sharp knives into that equation! So he’s there merrily getting in my way so I turn all the gas hobs down as low as they can go so as not to overcook the vegetables while I wait for an opportunity to strain them. The chicken is carved and ready then take the vegetables off the hob drain them and serve them up with the chicken and the roast potatoes ready to eat! Sit down and have a lovely meal and then retire to the lounge to watch the TV and generally chill out. Husband revisits the kitchen a couple of hours later to serve up dessert, chocolate fudge cake and double cream, oh my goodness!! Heaven! Dessert eaten, Husband takes the bowls and spoons and put them into the dishwasher in the kitchen and then comes back to the lounge. He then heads off to bed at around 9 pm leaving me and the dog to enjoy the TV for a couple more hours. Around 10:30 pm I put the dog out to the garden to do his business and lock up the doors and pull the blinds only to turn around and see the two gas hobs that I’d turned right down some 6 hours earlier were STILL FUCKING ON!! No wonder hubby had been moaning that it was a bit warm! Yet he hadn’t noticed on the two occasions that he’d visited the kitchen since we’d had dinner and I clearly hadn’t noticed when I’d served up the vegetables all that time ago! What an idiot! God only knows how much gas I had wasted and how much money that had cost me, thank God the flame was alight or we’d all have been gassed to death!! There’s me worrying about sharp knives when all along it’s my absentmindedness that would be the problem. What a complete knob.

When I checked the thermostat the internal temperature of the house was actually 21° so not a surprise that the bloody heating didn’t kick in 🤣 I spent the next couple of days wandering around in three layers so I didn’t have to have the heating on to try and save the gas that I’d fucking already used 🤦🏻‍♀️ so in the weeks that have followed I’ve almost obsessively checked the gas hob to make sure it’s off. Does make me wonder about myself… 😂😂