i know why the caged bird pecks people in the bawls

 

Nightfall at the old chateau.

I feel a longing for something tasty.

Perhaps a search in the kitchen cupboard will help.

I open it.

A satchet of mushroom soup meets my gaze.

Perfect.

Just what I need.

I read the instructions.

"1. Introduce contents into a saucepan.

2. Add a pint and a half of water, stirring constantly. Bring to the boil, stirring constantly. Partially cover and simmer for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Serve and enjoy.

3. For creamier taste reduce water to a pint only and add a half pint of milk."

A strange nigh mystic frustration seizes me.

I barely even know what "partially cover and simmer" means.

How would you even begin to do that?

It starts simply enough of course, "introduce contents into saucepan," we can all do that.

"Soup, this is saucepan. Saucepan, this is soup."

Then  it gets complicated with labour intensive sounding in house jargon about stirring and bringing to the boil and partially covering and pints gawdelpus.

"For ****'s sake," I cry to the universe and assembled dogs and parrots. "All I want is a bowl of soup. I'm not looking for work as an unpaid intern at the ****ing Erin Food Company."