To do lists and eggs.
23.08.2010 11 °C
Seven days to go, and I'm silly with lists. A list of telephone numbers on case of emergencies for my daughter's teachers - the class teacher, the ballet teacher, the horseback riding teacher. Every day my eldest son gets a reminder on his cellphone to water the newly planted seedlings and seeds. Middle son gets reminded to feed the pets. My household helper gets reminded what to prepare for lunch. Hubby gets reminded to take out tonight's food to defrost. The garden helper has specific tasks for each day that he is here. Every day's is stuck to the inside of a cupboard door. Lists and lists. I still have to finish my daughter's four ballet concert outfits.... Boy, am I going to enjoy my trip! Anyway, as previously mentioned - the story of the eggs.
In 2002 my mom sponsored a trip for us both to the Chelsea Flower Show and a visit to some of the best gardens in England. At that stage the echange rate was sixteen rand (jup, you read correctly) to the pound, so every cent / penny had to be squeezed to its absolute limit. So we packed sachets of tuna, biscuits, biltong, mayo, even coffee, tea and sugar. The food was heavier than the clothes. We arrived in London, and made our way to our little (budget) hotel. In the luggage store, we unpacked our provisions for the day. Mom rummaged in her luggage, and out came a crumpled brown paper bag with - a dozen hard - boiled eggs! My jaw just dropped. However, the jaw soon came up when we were on our way on the Hop on, Hop off tour. We lunched on tuna, crackers and eggs in one of the walkways of Westminster Cathedral - one of the highlights of my life. Since then, on all my trips, the last preparation for the trip is - packing the eggs. It's the perfect food. Vacuum packed, the right serving size, and with a dollop of mayo, eaten on the steps of some wonderful ruin, fantastic memories. Now, back to the ballet costumes...