When we go a-visiting Anne always packs a selection of her preserves as presents - whether people want them or not. I usually have a moan before we leave home along the lines of: "No, you can't take that, it's the last jar of beetroot chutney, that's not on, take them one of the bloody jars of orange marmalade."
So this week, on a visit to Neville's, having handed over my last jar of something smechlich, I do a spot-search of the kitchen and what do I find? A half-eaten jar of last year's beetroot chutney, and a jar of chilli and coriander jam from the year before that. UNOPENED.
Friends, these poor orphans came back to Shifnal with us. Rescue-chutneys re-homed somewhere they'll be appreciated. I did this with a heavy heart and as a last resort. Pour encourager les autres. Heed the call. Use it or lose it. I thank you.
I like the Marmite advert that's causing a kerfuffle about nothing. The one with RSPCM peeps rescuing Marmite jars from the cupboards of the uncaring. But I feel like pointing out that I did this shtick back in 2009 in 'The Northern Line to Shropshire'. I should probably sue.
Current state of play:
2. Farewell Trip.
Published by Carina UK.
3. Silly Verse for Grown Ups