Well, there I was taking the large and heavy, slow cooked shoulder of lamb out of the oven to rest in the utility room next to the kitchen. Just 15 minutes to go until our guests arrive for dinner. I cover the lamb and head for the utility room, not realising that a long cardboard tube which came with a roll of fabric and was standing by the door ready for recycling had actually (and silently) fallen across the threshold. Yes reader, I tripped and went headlong across the utility room parallel to the floor until the dish containing the lamb came up against the central heating boiler, smashed, ejected the lamb and sprayed hot fat (jus, if you're into gourmet nonsense) up the walls. Once my forward momentum is halted I crash to earth on one knee and one elbow, letting out, at the same time (multi-tasking even in a dire emergency), a bloodcurdling scream and just avoiding putting my face in the lamb!
Fortunately Peter is quick to arrive, realising that something is not quite right in the kitchen! He's such a perceptive man! He rescues the lamb as I slowly drag myself to my feet. We recover the lamb, wipe up the worst of the jus and I run upstairs to change (fat spattered shirt is not a good look), check my hair for bits of lamb, run down again and open the front door with a beaming smile...
Yes, it tasted good. Today my knee is swollen and stiff so I have had to spend most of the time watching Wimbledon with my leg up. I'll live to fight another day (or shoulder of lamb).
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