19 April 2010
Oh dear. I really do have that many tins in the cupboard. Soup tins and spaghetti tins and bits-of-plastic-in-a-metal-sauce tins, but mostly, soup tins. I’ve only been in this flat a year ot two, or there would be yet more.
Tomato and minestrone and tomato-with-a-bit-of-basil-in-it and I’m not exactly going to run out of vitamin C, am I, if there’s suddenly a crisis in the British supply chain, although I’ll never be able to use that saucepan for boiling milk again.
At least it’s not just me. My parents’ larder has tins amalgamated from three different households. Sometimes when I visit them I open the larder and stare into it as if something inanimate will speak up and tell me what to have for lunch. (I’d really rather that it didn’t.) Who on earth bought that flavour of soup? There’s a good chance she isn’t even on earth any more.