Sunday 27th February 2011
We went out for lunch today so I made an easy tea.
MD used to work nights, when I was a kid, which meant he would arrive home in the early hours of the morning while we were still sleeping. He would usually eat and then go straight to bed but on occasion, either me or one of my sisters would wake up and go downstairs with him while he ate.
From what I can remember and what has been told to me, he would sit us on the kitchen table while he prepared his midnight feast.
He would have a fresh bottle of ‘gold top’ milk which we were allowed to drink the cream off of the top and a doorstop sandwich, usually of ham and piccalilli, of which we were allowed to have the first bite out of the centre. There wasn’t a lot of talking as it was about 6 o’clock in the morning and we were still half asleep, but it was nice to spend the time with MD.
The next morning my sisters and I would boast to one another if we had got up with dad that morning. It was like a dream. We ourselves, not too clear on the details and whether it had actually happened.
After yesterday’s disastrous reception to dinner I was anxious to hear what he had to say about today’s.
“I wanted a sandwich but I wanted a lamb sandwich…but I liked it…good dinner.” He said.
I think I redeemed myself.