I awoke a little groggy from the late night and a little too much whisky, to the sound of rain thundering on the veranda roof. It was tipping down. There would be no run for me. No way I was going out in that even if it was the best way to cure a hangover. I donned a dressing gown, went to the kitchen, and downed two large tumblers of water. Hangover or no hangover, I was a woman on a mission.
After a shower and avocado on sour dough, I got the kitchen pumping for Dad. Chicken fricassee with creamy mashed potatoes, a frittata to replace the one we ate, stewed plums and custard, and a Spanish almond cake. As ever, it was a lot to prepare. Sometimes I thought cooking for Dad was like prepping for a dinner party. Good job I enjoyed cooking. Even on days when I didn’t feel the best, it was ne
