Demolition dinner

Our builders began the great knock through yesterday. I worked from home with a perturbed Miss P - her usual route blocked, she had an open front door and landing window. She opted for the latter, seemingly enjoying the precarious, slippery path of the conservatory roof. All said and done, I was campaigning for take out. I opened the kitchen door to a sea of dust and swiftly closed it again. With a very cross Miss P locked out, I nipped out for a quick massage (physio on the wrist has trapped a nerve in my back - super) and returned adamant that we were eating out. My knight in shining armour returned from work, declared the dust had settled and that it just needed a wipe down. So, post wipe down, I started to pull bits together. We had some left over chicken from last night, Mr M's tomatoes and beans and a packet of Merchant Gourmet's white and red quinoa. Oh, and one sad tortilla wrap.

Ta daar - a knob of butter, a sliced garlic clove, a sprig of rosemary, a dash of seasoning and a glass of something chilled. For all my feet dragging, this was very scrummy - and I won't wake up desperate for water at 4am as so oft happens after a takeaway.