Had a lovely re-run of Errol Flynn’s Baked Fish Havanaise with Paulette last night. It is the one and only dish that I can remember the ingredients for at the supermarket so I guess that makes it a house special.
I had a bit of a cry last night discussing the disastrous state of my love life. Today after lunch with my “Clarence” I have come to the conclusion that it is all my own stupid fault. If I insist on spending time with someone who thinks he is Errol Flynn why am I surprised when he behaves like Errol Flynn?