Around this time last year, when I left the lovely folk at Cruse Bereavement Care to explore pastures new, they had a whip round and bought me a voucher for a butchery class at Allens of Mayfair, which is in... well, Mayfair.
I know that a few of my colleagues there thought it was the weirdest idea they'd ever heard of, but luckily the fantastic Caroline persuaded them that it would be a great pressie for me. I was a happy bunny, and here's a little picture to prove it.
Anyway, imagine my embarrassment when about two weeks ago I got a text message from Caroline to say that she'd received a letter saying that I hadn't used my voucher, and that she hoped I'd be able to use it soon before it expired.
Now, I blame George and George blames me, but somewhere during one of three house moves we have achieved during the last year, the voucher went 'missing'. Obviously I couldn't own up to this fact, so I shamefully hid my head and hoped it would turn up. Luckily for me, Caroline is one of those amazingly forgiving persons and hopefully won't mind that I was so horrendously careless... (and I'm going to take her out for at least ten drinks to say thank you and sorry...)
The thankfully happy ending to this story is that when I phoned and explained the situation, Allens couldn't have been more helpful. The class was absolutely incredible, set in their 120-year-old butcher's shop, only five of us, with a great instructor. I learnt butchery skills with lamb, chicken, oxtail and beef, even got to use one of those massive saws (yay!), and took home an incredible amount of the highest quality meat I've ever seen. My freezer is stacked full and we're going to be treated to some lovely dinners for at least the next month.
|George was glad there was no giraffe on the menu|