Last night I discovered that if you ate roasted vegetables with feta,
followed by a lump of dark chocolate and hot milk you dream of the Royal
Family, better, you become intimate friends with them. I'm chopping the
vegetables now because the dream was so good and I want to go back there. Prince
Phillip himself escorted me through brightly lit woods up a hill to a palace never
shown on TV.
Princess Margaret was a hoot, and the Queen enquired as to what
books I enjoyed reading. We became such good friends. I felt almost part of the
family, and best of all a royal equerry in a green tweed jacket enquired after
Clay Cross. He dropped heavy hints. Did I have a spare copy of the book? I told
him I did. He took it from me with a promise I couldn't refuse: 'Clay Cross by
Royal Appointment.' He whispered it earnestly and I woke up with the determination
to roast some more vegetables. The only problem is I have no Feta. Might Wenslydale do?
2 comments:
I have feta cheese. But I only dream of late payments and runaway goats.
I wonder what the Queen reads--I mean really reads--not just the stuff she tells the press.
I know I have my comfort reads and few of them are literary.
You're not eating it right, Maria. Ref the Queen's reading habits, I'm guessing it's Wilbur Smith or E.L. James
Post a Comment