Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit...

I went out to dinner last night with a girlfriend whose husband is being detained at Her Majesty's pleasure (obviously I did not wear the Tom & Jerry dress). I had chicken liver wrapped in pancetta & served on mashed potato (delicious), followed by pan-fried duck breast with cranberry & port sauce (ordinary), and a selection of cheese with my port (uninspiring). Inevitably the conversation came around to the absence of marital intimacy that her situation unfortunately demands & her timely introduction to a battery-operated friend better aquainted with the single girl. We decided that at least one didn't have to wash the socks of her new rabbit pal, but on the down side, (sorry), it makes, I am told, a noise like a rather aggressive lawnmower. I suggested that, considering the critical nature of the issue, she might invest in some ear plugs.

Burns Night saw me dish up haggis, rich dark redcurrant gravy, red onion marmalade, bashed neeps & tatties, & peas. Obviously. And even the babies wolfed it down, although I am concerned that Smallest Son has taken to nipping like a yappy little dog, making it necessary to hold him at arm's length to evade his razor sharp new teeth, of which there are three.

On her honeymoon, my aunt decided that she would begin as she meant to go on, & as Dutiful Wife she set to the ironing with her travel iron. The absence of an ironing board in their hotel room at The Dorchester did not deter her - she laid my uncle's shirts carefully on the floor & proceeded to weld them to the carpet. Clever girl, I say. Not only did it test her new husband's ingenuity (he passed that test by moving the dressing table until it hid the charred spot in the carpet) but it ensured that he took charge of all further ironing situations that arose within their marriage. I have often thought that there should be a Husband School that men must attend by law before they are allowed to marry. At the wedding service they must present their certificate to the priest or registrar, showing that they have passed their Husband Proficiency Test, before the service is allowed to continue. But as the mother of three boys, it occurs to me that such a school already exists. It is surely the duty of parents, particularly of mums, to send our boys into the world readily equipped with the knowledge & understanding that makes for a Good Husband. It is ultimately irresponsible, selfish & lazy, not to mention an insult to feminine solidarity, to leave such educational matters to our daughters-in-law...