Here's the sting

 I really want to make the most of the lovely Summer (and get about five blog posts out of it) with some douchey foraging in the forest. Not for men. For wild garlic and nettles and probably some dirt or poisonous mushrooms to liven up my lack of cooking.

Quick, Granny is out, let's be really naughty and make a wild garlic and nettle risotto! Oh no she's back. Potatoes and tongue it is.

Well, luckily for me one of the (should I say few? I never know how faux mean to be) good things about having a boyfriend is that I can use his house. Can I? Have we had this conversation? No? Ok, fine I'll make my illicit meals over a candle or something.

Ok, so my other Grampa's house.

Hmm, but he doesn't like my nettle soup. What shall I do? Where am I meant to cook the fruits of my foraging?

Mum's house either was no good as Sam got one spindly food caught in some dandelion fluff and it was very upsetting for everyone.

Oh poor thing. Poor me really. Nowhere to cook. I might as well be on the streets or at a soup kitchen. I suppose that counts as looking for food...