I must admit I thought our relationship was going very well until I discovered she was trying to poison me.
I was blissfully unaware until I cut into the potatoes in the delicious feast of pork and apple sauce with all the trimmings that A. cooked for me the other day. It was all so English, so homely. Then: purple! PURPLE SPUDS! I could only conclude there must have been some chemical reaction with the strychnine or whatever it was she was trying to use.
Oh well, what the hell, if the one you love has decided you need doing away with then perhaps the only honourable thing to do is to dig in. They were very nice. Purple but otherwise very potatoey, with nice firm purple flesh and great with a glob of butter (at least that wasn't purple).
No pole-axing stomach aches yet.
3 comments:
thats our good old radish-boya for you!
That reminds me of a story I read to Charlotte last night.
My name is Pete
I like to eat
I like to eat
Purple taters with meat
neat
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