I was out visiting a friend today and I received two text messages. One from my husband and one from my son. They went like this.
Orkney Beef: I was wondering if you fancied a BBQ tonight?
Tech Support: Dad was wondering if you fancied a BBQ tonight. (Please say yes)
Both sound fairly simple but there was a coded message behind it. MI5 would have a job cracking it but I know the men in my life and had the whole thing sussed in no time.
- We want a BBQ.
- We have decided to ask you if you would like a BBQ but the decision is made and we are having a BBQ.
- We want to make it look like you have the final say on the BBQ, that way it’s up to you to buy all the food for the BBQ on your way home.
- Buy meat.
- Buy more meat.
- Buy a bit of that green stuff you force us to eat if it keeps you happy.
- Buy beer.
- Buy Irn Bru even though you moan about fizzy drinks and sugar and teeth. Just buy the sugar free stuff and relax.
- We are going to light the BBQ, poke the BBQ, watch the BBQ etc and cook the meat, you are not permitted to touch the BBQ.
- You can deal with the green stuff.
- Did you get enough meat?
- Tomorrow, once the BBQ is finished, we will revert to have no interest in cooking , that’s your job, until the next time we decide it’s time for a BBQ.
I arrived home and the BBQ was in full swing. Well in so much as it was lit and there was meat on it but more meat was needed obviously. There was some question mark over whether it was hot enough and it was taking its time to cook and the big black cloud which had been all over Orkney but for where we lived, was making its way over to ours. It started raining so
we I ended up finishing the cooking in the kitchen anyway.