Something around here smells fishy...


I think it's my cod pieces. They're stinking out the flat.

Anyhoo, Lisa's been out all evening, enjoying a well-earned break with her sister and a friend. They're having a meal at Harry's, a restaurant in Hove which is popular with Frank Bruno (I expect). I went there four and a half years ago, and I haven't been back since, which says about all you need to know about the place.

As we speak, it's approaching half past ten, and Lisa's not back yet. Which doesn't surprise me. Her departure from here was essentially a game of Bus Chicken, a popular pastime (with Lisa) which involves looking up the movements of buses in real time on the Brighton Buses website, waiting until one's about a hundred yards away, and then running out of the front door just in time to catch it from the stop outside. Feel free to try it here. Although it doesn't really work unless you live in my flat.

Obviously with hit-and-miss travel plans like that, I'm not expecting her back any time soon, so facing an evening on our own, Amelie and I decided to spend it creating a culinary masterpiece of our own. Although she let me down by going to bed at 7pm, just as the washing up was reaching the cupboard above the draining board.

Anyhoo, we've successfully made 'Mini Fish Pies' from Lorraine Kelly's Baby & Toddler Eating Plan. Unfortunately I only had three ramekins, so two of them aren't so much mini as extra large. But the way Amelie eats, she could polish one off and still expect dessert. I picked her up from her Grandmother's after work today, and Lisa's sister was there, feeding her a whole tomato. She was eating it like an apple, and making a disgusted face at every mouthful, but despite clearly loathing the taste with every fibre of her being, she still carried on eating it. As an adult, that could be considered politeness, but at her age it's just gluttony. I don't know who she gets it from.