So you know we are currently living in a hotel in West London and very nice it is too. The room isn't huge - nothing is in Europe but it does have a kitchenette which disappears behind a sliding cupboard door at the end of the night. This kitchenette was in fact the deal maker when we were choosing where to spend the first little while in London. It has a double hob and a microwave. I knew from day 1 that I would not be bothering with the hobs but the microwave would prove handy - even though I'm not its biggest fan. Sausage boy - as much as he likes to eat quick meals - swore blind he would NEVER use it. NEVER! He would rather eat fresh dog poop than put into his mouth a meal that had had its molecules messed with.
Day 4 and the boy can't get enough microwave food, not since he discovered the local supermarket stocked rather amazingly clever and delicious food pots that layer fresh food such as chicken, veggies and delectable world sauces in such a way that once cooked in a microwave (specially made for this) mix together to look and taste like a meal cooked separately on the hob. I rest my case. I also knew on day 1 that this would be so.
The last time Bratwurst Boy said he'd never do something was in relation to eating hot beans in tomato sauce for breakfast. In the UK we call them baked beans and they've been a staple breakfast food for decades. Not a week passed when he didn't put 2 tins of the stuff into the supermarket trolley. Same with sushi (but the credit falls to a past long suffering girlfriend - credit where credit's due).
Sparkling water is another amazing discovery for Jurassic Boy - he swore on his death that it would never take the place of Coke. NEVER. And now...you try making him drink anything else in a restaurant. First words out of his mouth at a pizza place the other night: "Ah, it's nice to be back in a place where sparking water is commonplace". I would cry, but there isn't enough room.
Not long ago he raged on about how Coke was so sweet - undrinkably sweet - that he couldn't understand how he could have drunk it for so many years. I mean I ask you?
The list goes on. Pink shirts? only people of a certain ilk wear pink. He ended up wearing pink to his wedding and loves the pink on blue/pink on grey combination now.
He's sitting behind me now chomping on his microwave meal: tandoori chicken & pepper kebabs with spinach pilau & mango chutney (try preparing that in 3 and a half minutes) sputtering with his mouth full: We're not getting a microwave in the new house!!
Sure.
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