Last night just before tea time, I was sitting in the living room trying to make sensible conversation with my mother (never easy...) when Miss Franny shouted from the kitchen.
"I can't find the potato peeler!"
I gave up trying to make sense of the tale I was struggling with - no my brother hadn't had an accident, Mother was talking about another Frank without considering I might think of one I actually knew...
"When did you have it last? Last night?" I asked unthinkingly.
"No I was working remember? You cooked yourself chicken korma last night!"
"Oh yes... Tuesday then?"
"We went to David and Jeannie's for tea on Tuesday!" Ah, yes... and they definitely didn't ask to borrow it, because we had lasagna...
We came to the sad concusion that it may have inadvertantly been wrapped with its very last peelings on Boxing Day... The bin men came yesterday... So it was a choice of knife and very small chips or fingernails and very long ... time before chips...
The daft part is that this was one of Fran's favourite types - a potato peeler with a detachable plastic handle that when reversed turned the peeler into a knife - gradely for making chips! A flick of the wrist and chop, chop, chop, chips!
That's not daft in itself, the daft part is that, having taken ages to find one the last time we needed to buy one, we bought two so that when it wore out next we would still have one. Yes... but where did we put it...?!?
Anyway I found an old faithful Lancashire peeler hidden in the depths of a kitchen drawer."I can't use those!" Fran complained.
I think I'm on peeling duties for a while until I can find a replacement...
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