http://youthworkertoministerswife.blogspot.com/2012/08/survival-weekend.html
I smiled with nostalgia, how far I have come since those days, I thought smugly to myself. I live alone a lot now as poor RAF Boy is so busy working and the house has not burnt down. Well, ok, it only didn't burn down because RAF Boy was home, but that doesn't count! I am not a disaster waiting to happen! Honestly.....it could have happened to anyone......
RAF Boy was home and was busy fiddling with something, it may have been DIY or Lego, I forget but let's go with fiddling. I wander off into the kitchen to cook dinner for us, a nice, easy, healthy meal - burger, chips and beans. I get the chips out of the freezer and pop them in the oven, pour the beans into a pan and put the grill on. I make a cup of tea and then put the burgers under the grill. All is going well. I wander through to the frontroom to see how the fiddling is going. Ah, you're already smiling aren't you. You think you know what happens next.
The fiddling is going ok and the furbabies are happily snuggled up next to RAF Boy. I wander back out to the kitchen and glance at the oven. All is well. Ha! See! Not what you were expecting.
At this point, my youngest furbaby comes into the kitchen with me and has a cuddle. She can smell the burgers and is trying to tell me just how much she needs to eat one. She starts doing all her tricks to try and earn one but settles for a Bonio. The timer on the oven begins beeping and I check on the food. The chips are done but they are still very pale. The burgers should be done but they are also pale. Hmmmm, RAF Boy prefers his food to not look anaemic. I'm now in the danger zone .
I need to leave the food in for a bit longer but catch it before it burns. The seconds are now ticking and the pressure is on.
I remove the burgers from the grill and cut them to check that they are indeed cooked all the way through. Fat spills out into the bottom of the grill pan, a sizzling can be heard, furbaby wags her tail excitedly and I can see that the burgers are indeed done. They are done but they are still pale. If I pop them back under the grill for another minute, they'll be nicely browned.
The following is what was actually running through my head in the seconds that followed.
"Hmmm, they are cooked but he likes them browner. I wonder if they'll be ok going back under with all that fat. I think it might catch light. Will it?" These were my thoughts as I placed the burgers back under the grill.
"Right, lets see....oh, no they're spitting. Yep they're going to catch fire [reaching for grill] ah, there's a flame.....bugger it, now what the hell do I do?"
The one tiny flame suddenly became bigger flames that flew out from under the grill and licked up around the knobs on the cooker. I couldn't withdraw the grill without burning my hand and I couldn't turn the grill off either as I couldn't reach the knobs safely. I became aware that my furbaby had run off barking into the frontroom, she's a clever girl and had gone to fetch RAF Boy. I also vocalised my distress "help! Help! HELP!"
Then, one of the funniest things I have ever seen happened. RAF Boy came charging into the kitchen. No, charging is the wrong word. He pushed the door open and kinda leapt into the kitchen into a squat position, sporting bloody jazz hands! Jazz hands!! What was he going to do? Dance the fire away? Were torrents of water going to fly from his hands? A massive gust of wind to extinguish the fire? I stared in disbelief and tried not to laugh. He stood up straight and said "wow, that really is a fire." Oh yeah, the fire.
I began backing away from the cooker as he approached it. I watched as he flicked the switch in the wall to turn the cooker off. Damn it, why didn't think of that? I watched as grabbed a tea towel and grabbed the grill pan out from under the grill. I had backed up to the door now. I watched as he began smothering the flames and then....I had reached the safety of the hallway and was getting my shoes on the furbabies leads ready for us to run.
"Fire's out" I heard him chuckle as I grabbed the leads. Ah, ahem, best I return to the kitchen and deny that I was about to run for safety. "Flame grilled burgers" he sniggered. I tried to act with poise and dignity, like I had meant for the burgers to catch fire. He glanced down at my shoes and raised an eyebrow. What? Oh these, been wearing them all day. I grabbed the grill pan and put the burgers on a plate and grabbed the chips out of the oven. I poured on the beans onto the plates and handed him his food. "Flame grilled, just the way you like them" I declared and wandered off to sit down and eat.
It would seem that perhaps I'm still a bit of a liability but at least I have Jazz Hands RAF Boy to save the day :D
Be blessed
