Margaret, I oversaw the purchase of fresh berries myself whilst taking Consuela to the supermarket on a training exercise. It was hard to get her to concentrate, given she was mesmerized by all the bright lights and kept muttering: "what is this place?"
Still amazes me how someone with multiple degrees, a former CEO of a government agency by the time she was 40 and the skill to castrate 50 lambs with her teeth an hour is so undomesticated. I blame myself of course due to my superlative house husbandry technique
while she was away living it up at the taxpayers expense on those seemingly endless junkets. In any case my error was letting her go to the supermarket unescorted - a solo run for that much needed egg. That's when she must have spotted the factory made pastry (not puff pastry, by the way). Anyway, back to the pie. A few guests arrived to share the birthday meal - pre-cooked and delivered by our local upmarket eatery. All went well until the fabled pie appeared and one of our guests asked if it was one of mine. The look of horror around the table was priceless when I pointed to Consuela - the unlikely cook. "You poor basterds," I was thinking. Well Genghis Khan couldn't have cut his way through that pastry with his fathers sword, and it was comical to watch. Even Consuela laughed - due to alcoholic lubrication, given I knew what was coming and had ensured her glass was always full (always the master strategist
).
So ended my 64th year with a memory of pie not soon forgot. We shall never speak of it again
.
