I hardly slept at all last night. A combination of abdominal pain and Barney's insistence that there were monsters in the garden meant that I had trouble dropping off and in variably when I did I was disturbed by the Woofmaster General letting me know that the wind was back and being menacing. After the 4am round of pain killers I think I dozed off quite well, but suffice to say that by 9am I was still weary and in need of sleep, which made this morning a pretty slow start. I did manage to get up and dressed in time to get to the sorting office before 1pm to collect a parcel which was too big to go through the letter box last Thursday, however, and so I have at least achieved something today.
When I was younger, my favourite soup by virtue of it being the only flavour I would eat, was tomato soup. It still is although I have developed my taste buds sufficiently to like other types too. I vividly recall my first Bonfire Night at my infants school at the age of five and three quarters when we were near the end of the queue for warming cups of tomato soup, but were rewarded for our patience by the soup disher outer by being given extra large mugs of soup. On reflection I think this was more of a perk for my Dad, as I'm not sure how much soup a five and three quarter year old can realistically consume, but I was happy to go along with it. The fireworks were brilliant, the bonfire was hot and we all went home happy and full of tomato soup. The following year, my Dad, so keen for bonus lashings of tomato soup came up with a cunning plan; we would wait until near the end to get our soup so we could benefit from extras as had been the case the previous year. By now, an impressionable six and three quarter year old, I went along with his plan but, with the benefit of hindsight, fairly inevitably, they ran out of tomato soup. This was a disaster. I didn't like any other flavour soup. Mushroom was not going to cut it thank you very much. The plan had backfired and I was hungry. Fortunately on this occasion, G's dad came to the rescue. They had tomato soup at their house and fortunately as their back garden faced the school playing fields and therefore the firework display, we could have our soup and still enjoy the fireworks. Lessons were learnt from this experience. I learnt that Dad's plans were not always a good idea, and having witnessed Dad's performance at numerous buffet's since it is fair to say he learnt that it is best to get to the front of the queue rather than wait until the end. On one particular occasion I believe he actually got there before the buffet opened and by the time the DJ was announcing that food was ready round the corner and everyone could help themselves, Dad was already back at the table laden with mini fish and chip cones and tucking right in.
Anyway, all this meandering down memory lane brings me back to the parcel. I had been expecting a largish package containing a gift I had ordered for a friend, and so was surprised when I was handed a short cylinder which was quite heavy. Even the postman commented on the unusual nature of the package, which when opened turned out to be a tin of soup. Not any old soup you understand, a tin of Heinz Classic Get Well Soon Nikki Soup, courtesy of the lovely H. H moved to Heinz earlier in the year and so it was good to see that she has developed a fabulous new product in that time. And best of all, it is tomato soup. Thank you H! xx
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