Anyone for a Smoothie?
We’ve just had lunch, the girls and I. It was a left-over sort of day as I’m clearing the fridge in preparation for going away. I peered into it’s chilly smelly depths. Aha!
‘How about a smoothie?’
‘Great!’ they chime.
I pull out half a punnet of slightly wrinkly blueberries, a handful of remaining raspberries - a little green in parts, a cholesterol-busting drinky yoghurt and a carton of apple juice. Just the job.
‘Banana anyone?’
‘Yes!’ says E.
‘Yeuck!’ says G.
No banana then. I usually add banana.
I put the ingredients into my handy hand-blender.
‘Stand back’, says I, I’m probably about to make a horrible mess.’
No sooner said than done!
Pinky white liquid with lumpy bits in it all over the worktop, the video, the pen basket…you name it, it was covered. Then some nice dribbles down the side of the cupboard and a whole load splattered on the floor.
‘Oooh, it looks like puke!’ says E.
‘Yeuck!’ says G.
I curtail my curses and continue, taking a step back. Same thing happens again. And a third time. Pavlov’s dogs…? Finally realise it’s because it hasn’t got the banana in it for ballast and I’m holding the whizzer bit too high up the beaker. Yes, success at last. E, in an elder daughter encouraging sort of way, says,
‘I’d like to have some…’
‘….sick’ says G.
Well, at least I tried!
Time to take them to find some primroses. I trust it will be less messy…
‘How about a smoothie?’
‘Great!’ they chime.
I pull out half a punnet of slightly wrinkly blueberries, a handful of remaining raspberries - a little green in parts, a cholesterol-busting drinky yoghurt and a carton of apple juice. Just the job.
‘Banana anyone?’
‘Yes!’ says E.
‘Yeuck!’ says G.
No banana then. I usually add banana.
I put the ingredients into my handy hand-blender.
‘Stand back’, says I, I’m probably about to make a horrible mess.’
No sooner said than done!
Pinky white liquid with lumpy bits in it all over the worktop, the video, the pen basket…you name it, it was covered. Then some nice dribbles down the side of the cupboard and a whole load splattered on the floor.
‘Oooh, it looks like puke!’ says E.
‘Yeuck!’ says G.
I curtail my curses and continue, taking a step back. Same thing happens again. And a third time. Pavlov’s dogs…? Finally realise it’s because it hasn’t got the banana in it for ballast and I’m holding the whizzer bit too high up the beaker. Yes, success at last. E, in an elder daughter encouraging sort of way, says,
‘I’d like to have some…’
‘….sick’ says G.
Well, at least I tried!
Time to take them to find some primroses. I trust it will be less messy…
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