We have a very confusing little mystery and in the absence of Hercule Poirot, Robbie has been investigating. Just after Christmas I noticed that my tea had a funny taste, at first I thought it was just my imagination but then Robbie noticed that his coffee tasted a bit odd too. He insisted that the problem could be traced back to his mishap on Boxing Day when a bottle of vanilla essence launched itself out of the cupboard and spilled on to the worktop. He thought that some of the vanilla essence must have gone into the kettle, it seemed a bit of a long shot, but it could have been the cause of the trouble. After a couple of days I made a close inspection of the inside of the kettle and found that it was a bit greasy. I gave it a good clean and rinsed it about twenty times before drying it with a paper towel, but I didn't have a chance to test it before I went to work.
When I got home from work Robbie made me a cup of tea and to my dismay it still had a horrible taste. More detective work followed which led to us replacing the kettle in case there was something wrong with the other kettle. The first cup of tea seemed a bit better but then things went down hill and the nasty taste was back. I tasted the water from the cold tap and it seemed fine, but the water in the kettle had a horrible taste so the mystery deepened.
We had almost given up hope, but earlier this evening Robbie showed me the jug that he uses to fill the kettle. I always fill the kettle straight from the tap, but Robbie is a creature of routine and he insists that the correct way to do it is to use a jug. Unfortunately the jug that he uses is the old plastic measuring jug that I use to make gravy etc. It always gets washed up but I think it must be the jug that is tainting the water, I will replace it when I go shopping, but from now on Robbie will use a glass jug to fill the kettle. We have had two decent cups of tea since replacing the jug so we have our fingers firmly crossed. I hope we have solved the problem
Mr B has been doing his Dr Dolittle act again. On Sunday evening he had a word with me on behalf of the guinea pig. According to Robbie she is not as satisfied with the new carrots I bought because they are the wrong shape! I told him that she is a guinea pig and as long as she has enough to eat she is not bothered about size, to her three small carrots are just as good as one large one. I could tell by his expression that he wasn't convinced, he told me that he was sure that she found the larger ones more satisfying.
Usually I buy 'saver' carrots for her, but last week they had some small 'finest' organic carrots on offer. They were cheaper than the saver carrots so I chose those for the guinea pig along with her curly kale and other vegetables. I am fairly sure that she didn't even notice the difference, I think it is Robbie who has the problem not the guinea pig! Why do men have to obsess about size all the time?
