Birthday tea

[desperance]

I seem to be giving myself a surprise birthday tea-party (I knew nothing about it, I swear...). Dunno if anyone's coming, but hey. I have made an orangeblossom-syrup cake, and - the big news of this morning - I just knocked up a quick bowl of amazingly-authentic taramasalata, and y'know what? Honestly? Barry likes smoked cod's roe. He does. For values of 'likes' that would almost certainly include hurling himself beneath the wheels of speeding locomotives, if I let him anywhere near the railway tracks. I unwrapped the roe, and he was just there. Climbing my leg to get at it. So I skinned it, and he got the skin. And the wrapping to lick. And, all right, the odd finger's-worth here and there. I am not noticeably mean to my cat - but whatever, it wasn't enough. The taramasalata is in the fridge, and Barry is sat before the fridge, trying to figure out how that accursed door works. He can open most doors in this house; if he could only get some purchase on it, I'm pretty sure he could open the fridge door too. Happily, it's off the ground...

Now I must face the hoovering. Feel my pain.