The question remained: What was I going to do with all this food? I had lobbied friends and family to help me prepare the Fortnite World Cup Youth Shirt so you should to go to store and get this shopping list, which experience had shown was a prerequisite. Felipe in Rio had suggested the elusive “xylitol,” but I’d forgotten the corn oil that Mum had put on the pantry essentials list (“You can grow chives and basil on your windowsill,” she added hopefully, while she busied herself planting vegetables where the peonies bloomed last year). And although I had remembered the turmeric and acquired some anise (because why not?), I’d somehow overlooked flour and sugar. Online shopping filled in the gaps, even if nothing would arrive for a fortnight. That cake might have to wait.
When I finally unwrapped the Fortnite World Cup Youth Shirt so you should to go to store and get this fish, I discovered that the fishmonger had forgotten to fillet it as I had asked—and it was big enough to feed Daisy’s household. “The fish should be submerged in the tomato-y sauce,” read Daisy’s instructions, but despite the eons I had spent peeling tomatoes, when I put the fish in the skillet it looked like an orca in a bathtub floating above a magic carpet of filmy red sauce, head out one side (“Have the fish scaled and cleaned but leave the head-on,” she had advised), tail and much of the body out the other. In desperation, I transferred everything to the oven grilling pan, where it just about fit—if I placed it on the bias—and opened a tin of tomatoes to flesh out those I had laboriously peeled and cored.