Mother’s Log: day 354. Husband still AWOL Kids borderline feral. Mild (occasionally severe) delirium. Not sure we’re going to make it.

My dear, dear husband called yesterday. I said isn’t it wonderful that we will at last be reunited on Thursday, we’re preparing a banquet to herald your return. Husband replies sorry about you, when I said Thursday I meant Friday.

Black mark. Noted.

Another black mark on this past week goes to my Father’s GP who told him his cholesterol is too high. What monster doles out such devastating diagnoses without counseling?

He was given a sheet with all the things to eat and and those to avoid. Obviously everything that my father has ever enjoyed eating is on the don’t eat side and all the stuff on the ok to eat side can only be eaten if you’re wearing leggings and are friends with Gwyneth Paltrow.

To commiserate I’ve been trying to sort out some salvation for him. I thought chocolate sorbet would be a brilliant compromise. It wasn’t. It’s an aberration. It is getting thrown into the ‘Miscakes I’ve made section’ and I imagine will languish there for eternity.

So I provide you with this recipe to warn you to never make it unless you’re going to Gwyneth’s house.

Caster sugar          200g

Cocoa powder      50g

Dark chocolate     50g

Vanilla essence    1 teaspooon

I mean it quite seriously, don’t make this. I didn’t even take a photo of the finished mess because it is so crap.

Mix the sugar and cocoa in a mixing bowl.

Bring 600ml of water to the boil.

Slowly whisk the water into the sugar and cocoa.

Pour everything back into the pan and await your disappointment.

Bring up to a gentle simmer and keep it there for 5mins.

Remove it from the hob.

Stir in the chocolate and vanilla and cry a little.

Put the mix into the fridge and let it cool down entirely.

If you haven’t given up already then pour it into a freezerproof container and put it in the freezer.

Every couple of hours stir it, wondering why you ever started doing this against my advice.

When it’s fully frozen, throw it in the bin and eat a digestive instead.

On a different note, here’s Tom lime whispering.