Returned home last night to find my 15-year-old son had found a novel use for my frying pan splatter guard. He was grating cheese with it!
While you may see the funny side of his lunacy, I see the mishap as a significant step forward in the slow development of his putty-like teenage brain.
He had recognised the flattened sieve-like guard as a kitchen implement. It was a Eureka moment.
Of course his attempt to grate cheese through the implausibly thin mesh failed miserably, but, hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
The splatter guard was a new addition to the Ord kitchen utensil armoury.
My only regret is that I wasn’t there to watch him try to figure out what the splatter guard was for.
I guess it was a bit like giving a monkey a George Clooney Nespresso coffee pod machine.
The buying of a splatter guard would normally be classed as the ‘champagne moment’ of my weekly supermarket shop.
When I deposited it at the self-service check-out, I was surprised it didn’t have the automated voice informing the world that there was an “unexpected item in the bagging area.”
What exactly constitutes an ‘unexpected item?’ A mandrill. An AK45. Edvard Munch’s the Scream?
In my case, the unexpected item that has the supermarket attendant rushing over to get to the bottom of this mystery invariably reveals something nondescript, like a vacuum-packed beetroot. Shouldn’t really be that unexpected given this is a supermarket.
Don’t get me wrong. I like supermarket shopping.
But clearly not as much as other folk.
At least that’s what I surmised after visiting the loos.
Why, I ask you, do they have a condom machine in the men’s supermarket toilets?
Surely nothing is less likely to put you ‘in the mood’ than a trip down the supermarket food aisles … or am I doing our local Morrisons deli counter team a disservice?