It was the perfect time to experiment in the kitchen and I made three jars of red cabbage sauerkraut (which is two jars more than I meant to make - seems like cabbage gets bigger when you grate it).
Sauerkraut ferments, meaning it needs to be 'burped' each day. By the time I departed for my parents it was becoming very lively and needed to be burped twice a day. I left Nigel with instructions...
The visit to my parents went ok, with me getting through a number of the things on the parental to-do list. So, by the time I was sitting in Truro station waiting for the 14.54 to Paddington, I felt quite pleased with myself.
The last thing I expected was the announcement that all trains were cancelled owing to an unexploded WW2 bomb at Plymouth. I made my way back to my parents.
It is was only as I returned to my childhood bed that night that I remembered the sauerkraut.
Nigel probably thought his cabbage-related duties ended on Thursday and would not have set himself a phone reminder for Friday.
I lay awake in the darkness, ears straining for a distant explosion. Not the WW2 bomb at Plymouth - the sauerkraut in St Albans.
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