Before I start – Paul sat bolt upright in bed this morning (well as bolt upright as someone with a waterfall of fat on their front can do) and announced ‘I just had a dream that I won the Eurovision Song Contest…representing Lebanon!’ and went back to sleep. I couldn’t sleep after that particularly gay announcement. Cheers Paul.
The title of this post comes from my father, who on entering any room, always say ‘EH’ like he’s missed out on some juicy titbit of gossip. I endured this for eighteen years before I moved out (not because of the eh-ing I hasten to add) and he still does it even to this day. Brilliant.
I’m going to quickly post this recipe below and then head off to see The Unmentionables – well you have to, it’s Father’s Day. My dad is brilliant – he’s like the antithesis of me in every single way. Where some people might call me quite fey, he’s super-butch. I’m fat, he’s thin. He has a Screwfix catalogue next to his bed, I had a copy of Salza: For Lover of Latino Inches hidden under my mattress. He can quite cheerfully throw up a set of shelves, remodel a kitchen and mend a broken car, whereas I can quite cheerfully call a handyman, joiner and mechanic in on my mobile.
He’s always been one of those dads who knows how to do everything – and although he always walks into my house and says it smells of something, which irks me no end – he can always be relied upon if I ever need anything done. He was great with me growing up, despite having to endure the veritable collection of freaks that I brought home…the ginger one, the scabby one, the one with the discus-shaped lip, the one with the question-mark spine, the one who looked like Richard Osman from Pointless, Silent Bob, the chap whose voice sounded like a bee caught behind a radiator…he made small talk and polite conversation with them all. I never once felt awkward, pressured or unsupported and that’s testament to what a great father he is. I never tell him that, obviously. That would be far too awkward and non-manly. Feelings, right?
Paul has a similar relationship with his dad, although it’s slightly more difficult for him as there’s over 250 miles between them. However, we seem to have settled into a pattern of genial giving of gifts on special occasions – Paul’s dad gets a cookbook or an atlas at Christmas, Paul gets money a week after his birthday. I’ve met him and can gladly say the old ‘in-laws are horrible’ stereotype doesn’t apply, which is great. He’s a thoroughly pleasant chap. Paul often tells me of how he came out to his parents – his mum reacted in a very ‘mum’ way, by making retching noises and almost-but-not-quite putting down her Puzzler in shock, whereas his dad said ‘SO YOUR MUM TELLS ME YOU’RE GAY, SON’ and went back to fussing around his Renault 19. Parents are fun.
As for us, being fathers is the last thing we’d ever want to do. The mechanics of it are bad enough – we’re not going to stand around popping our yop into a plastic cup and finding some suitable receptacle to carry our child, that’s too stressful. But even if we got past that point, the idea of having a child to look after is my idea of genuine hell. I can barely remember to clip my own toenails and go to the toilet, having some screaming hellchild demanding regular food and access to my bank account fills me with dread. So: you’ll never be reading the tearful account of us adopting and raising a child, though you can know that if we ever DID, it would have a proper bloody name. I’ve heard of a kid being called Lil’star and it makes my eyes shake with fury.
ANYWAY, here we go. Today’s recipe: rocky road overnight oats. I know I said no more overnights oats but I had this photo kicking around in the archives and in the spirit of Father’s Day, I thought I’d post something a bit more…fun. Well I say fun…
to make rocky road overnight oats, you’ll need:
- 40g of Quaker or store-brand oats – we use Quaker because we like the texture
- 1 vanilla and chocolate Mullerlight (syn-free)
- sliced banana
to make rocky road overnight oats, you should:
- place your oats in the bottom of your jar
- cover with sliced banana
- cover with the yoghurt
and then you’ll use your syns to add the following:
- 10 mini marshmallows (0.5 syns)
- 5g of chocolate chips (1.5 syns)
- 5g of dried cranberries (0.5 syns)
- two smashed up sugar-free Werthers Originals (0.5 syns each)
I know 5g doesn’t sound like a lot, but weighed out and mixed in, it is. Jeez, calm down.
or you could add:
- 1 tsp of chocolate sprinkles (1 syn)
- segments from a tangerine
- fresh berries
- smashed up Crunchie fun size (4 syns)
The world is your oyster. Yes, you have to use syns (NURSE! NURSE! GET THE SALTS) but for goodness sake, for a sweet indulgence at the start of the day, why not go mad and let your hair down? I mean give it a wash first obviously.
If you want more overnight oats, you’ll find them here:
Happy father’s day!
J