Mamma Mia! Talk About The Cat That Got The Cream

It’s not really name-of-the-game dropping, but a little chat with City Wife demonstrates how the winner takes it all

MISSY the Feline is the one member of our household who regularly patrols the kitchen work surfaces. Not that this is a pastime I encourage. But if there’s so much as a microscopic morsel of salmon on an unwashed plate, or whiff of tuna in a yet to be recycled can, there’s no stopping her. For a change, however, right now I’m the one scaling the units. It’s the only way to reach those condiments camouflaged amongst homemade pickles and jars of spicy chutneys. Hence I’m on tiptoes berating, not for the first time, the ridiculousness of inaccessibly high kitchen shelves.

When I eventually locate the marjoram it boasts a Best Before date I wouldn’t dare confess to my mother. Or daughter. Surely it hasn’t been three years since I last smeared a roast chicken with aromatic herbs? Perhaps a check in/out inventory on the inside of each door might be the answer? I’m contemplating the logistics of such a system when the oven alarm pings. This month’s Knit & Natter starts shortly and participants have come to expect the aroma of my Madeleines as they walk into the village hall.