Frightful nightmare cooking dinner last night. Having concocted dish consisting of tinned mince, set about making it to discover most of kitchen items in completely different locations to usual. Questioning of Mrs Payne surprisingly unfruitful as to where items may be placed, reply being "It's your kitchen!". Took twice as long to prepare meal because of this, with tinned mince stewing in its own grease throughout, and when meal finally ready other half distinctly absent. Telephone call relayed another 30 minutes wait, during which time at least had time to find crockery to eat from.
Unfortunately by the time other half had arrived mince almost boiled dry and other elements of dish positively boiled to mush. Unable to find normal dinner plates, asked other half, in awfully bad mood, and Mrs Payne would they like to be served on side plates or soup bowls? Both chose side plates, however judicious plating up of the dish found plates quite unable to contain the slop, and thus resorted to soup bowls.
Dish a surprising success, akin to meaty soup, with dried mince soaking up mush nicely, however this didn't help in slightest from rampant complaint from Mrs Payne, saying she knew not why I bothered to cook when turning out such food, and I could do to learn a thing or two from her daughter. At this point I was quite uninterested in talk, having spent an hour and a half cooking.
Other half cheered up considerably and having packed Mrs Payne off to bed said I had "rescued a truce from the jaws of defeat". Thought in circumstances this a profound success.