Stuart wanted me to cook. When he wants me to cook, I always do it because then I know that he has eaten that day and there are some calories in his body that don’t come from beer and there is a limit to his intake of sodium nitrate or sugar. I had lamb chops that I had taken out of the freezer but he wanted Cajun chicken, so I decided to make Cajun chicken.

It looked like there was a recent sale on chicken breast because the only stuff they had was organic, (which I would love to buy but it was 11 quid for two) or a big bag of breasts for six quid (each breast wrapped in plastic, which isn’t the environmentally sound choice). I went for the bag.

I got home by 7:30. Stuart had left work early and had been home since 5:30 and already had 4, 5 beers under his belt, which he tried to hide. I can usually tell because he develops grandiose plans or becomes generally lairy.

He also gets silly.

“Thomas! What can we celebrate?”

I was slicing each plastic packet holding a chicken breast open with a dull paring knife and plopping them into a marinade of lemon juice, garlic olive oil and a Cajun spice blend.

“I dunno. Maybe the end of an era with Jen leaving?” (Jen is moving in with her boyfriend and starting this June the flat will be our own little war zone  love nest.

 “I want to celebrate something so I can open up the bottle of champagne I have in the fridge.”

“You mean, you’ve run out of beer, you’re too lazy to run to the shop and you are trying to justify opening the champers.”

“Let’s drink to the koalas!”

“The koalas.” 

“The koala twins that were born today.”*

“The koalas.”

“Preston you useless bint! We’re going to drink to the koalas!”

Jen was in the front room. She had assisted Stuart in his drinking of the beer. She doesn’t get lairy when she gets drunk, but she does fall down stairs. Her voice travelled into the kitchen, “Okay!”

You know how they tell you to never work with a dull knife? It’s a really good bit of advice. I picked this moment to somehow to stab/slice my middle finger. Not a needing stitches slice, but enough that there was a happy amount of gushing blood. After getting it under control, (I don’t recommend Stuart as a helper in a case of medical emergency by the way) Stuart opened the champagne and we drank to the koalas.

“To the koalas! The drug addicts of the animal world!”

We drank.

*The koalas were actually born in October but Stuart saw a picture of them yesterday. They are very cute.

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