Getting away with it

Our marriage is not one of the old-fashioned patriarchal type where I have to get Rob's permission to spend money. However, all our income goes into and comes out of one account, so it's only polite to mention it when one of us has been spending.

The thing is, Rob doesn't give a monkey's when I buy clothes. Some people's husbands get funny about it -- not mine. But whenever I buy yarn, I get 'Oh, darling!' in a slightly disapproving tone. So last time I went clothes shopping, I cam home and unloaded the bags, showing Rob each thing as I unpacked it:

Me: Look, I got a t-shirt, a jacket, jeans and a jumper for you... And this (revealing a John Lewis bag full of yarn) is a jumper for me.

Rob: Oh darling. That's yarn.

Me: No, it's a jumper. It's self-assembly.

And he couldn't really argue with that. I love Rob.

Pissaladiere

If there was ever a recipe that could have been invented for me and Rob, pissaladiere is it:

• it's got a kilo of onions in it
• and 24 anchovies
• and it sounds like it's made of wee.

Yummers!