10 years I've been eating his burnt offerings, 10 years of breakfast in bed of ruined bacon, frazzled eggs, porridge like concrete, cold toast. Strange salads, tough stews and over boiled broccoli. Tea with the tea bag paper label floating around in the cup. Coffee so bitter you can feel the skin peeling off your tongue.
This week I'm too ill to cook, nothing terrible , just sleeping, off my dinner , yesterday I fancied some soup. It was DH proof ,instant, but instead of a pint of tomato, half a cup of pale pink gloop with white bits floating around arrived.
The thing is he volunteers, he hums happily as he chops veg, he says "you sit down love I'll cook tonight " but I dread it.
Please cheer me up with your own tales of keen but incompetent cooks.