It's Friday so usually I let the girls have what they want for dinner provided I have it available. Tonight they asked for pizza again (they'd have it every night) before they settled on sausages.
Like Paddington I sighed a deep sigh. Because sausages always results in one inevitable outcome. The smoke alarms go off. This happens whether I open doors and turn fans and extractors on, or not.
Of course I started cooking them nonetheless. Maybe this time it wouldn't happen.
It took approximately five minutes before I got slightly distracted and left the sausages unattended. As predicted ear splitting screeches ensued.
The girls carried on watching 'Little Princess'. It does worry me that they don't see smoke alarms going off as an emergency anymore, only a minor aural inconvenience.
I ran about cursing the fact that Paul wasn't here. He is rather taller than I am. I don't like to suggest he's better at things than me, but let's face it he beats me on height every time.
Accepting his absence I did my next usual trick of running into the hall and looking upwards at the smoke alarm as if that will help in some way. I then jumped up and down a lot with one arm in the air. Despite the fact that we have 8 foot high ceilings and I'm 5ft 4. Amazingly I haven't developed bionic legs since the last episode.
After that I ran the the top floor and tried the same trick with the other alarm. It didn't work. The ceiling is lower but not low enough and aside from banging it a few times I achieved nothing more than a sense of frustration. I considered climbing on the bed but thought better of launching myself off it at a 45 degree angle. I nearly stood on the wash basket before remembering I weigh rather more than two stone.
I ran downstairs again then realised I should have by now removed the grill pan, which was actually flaming, from the grill. I did this and opened lots of windows and all the doors. Typically by now it was snowing heavily.
At this point, a good five minutes into crisis, Phoebe came out of the living room and shouted "turn that off I can't hear the telly". I could just about see her through the smog. She was unalarmed.
I then got a child's wooden chair, stood on it and pressed the off switch on the hall smoke alarm. Why did I not do that in the first place you may ask. I'm no good in a crisis and I never learn that's why.
A few wafts of a child's coat later and a bit more cooking (in a frying pan this time) and dinner was cooked.
"It's ready" I called. The girls ran into the kitchen before moaning "it's flipping freezing in here! Why is the door open?"
Then we ate sausages and watched the snow. Through the slight sausage haze and firmly closed back door.