How many stucky episodes and how many visits to the porcelain throne is it going to take before I realise that bread + band = not a good mixture?
This morning I took small boy for a walk. When we got back hubby said 'I boiled up some eggs so we could have them for lunch. I thought I might make you a rocket, chicken and hard boiled egg salad.' Not being a mahoosive fan of the old salad leaf in general and knowing that chicken and I aren't the best of friends anymore, I turned down this kind offer. Then hubby offered egg mayo on crackers; again, I said no. Then came the offer of an egg mayo sandwich; my eyes lit up, my brain switched off, my tummy gurgled and it was all systems go.
I managed this much (and even that was a struggle, but I soldiered on valiantly.)
Then I had to pay a visit to the littlest room.