True Grit

This post is dedicated to all those heroes who have ever struggled to assemble a barbecue - see Mr B (left). Having extracted all the pieces from an improbably small box, and laid all the nuts and bolts out on the path, he spent a good forty minutes bent double, cursing the barbecue from hell, before triumphantly declaring it fit for purpose (except for a missing nut).

Actually I think it'll do very well, this wee cast iron job (all of £8.90 at the Coop) - or should do, once it stops smelling so appalling. In the event I had to put an old grill over the smoking iron one, so that our food didn't taste of Whatever It Was, but next time I hope it'll burn off completely and all may yet be well. The dinner, by the way, was delicious - swordfish kebabs marinated in olive oil, lemon juice, garlic and paprika: brown and crunchy on the outside and succulent within.

And while I'm celebrating achievement, let's hear it for Morgane: passing your driving test at past 8 months pregnant shows some determination. Felicitations!