Everybody loves Greta

I have very quickly gone into that holiday time warp where it gets to be 10 o'clock just 5 minutes after if was 9 o'clock.

I have appointed myself Benny and Sandy's wife. They love me for it! My duties consist of reading their recipe books, making suggestions, conducting an inventory of the pantry, acquiring supplies and providing a meal. Last night it was sundried tomato ravioli with roast butternut pumpkin, pine nuts, goat cheese and deepfried sage that I picked from their garden, followed by lemon delicious pudding and cream. Tonight it is pea and ham soup with sourdough bread followed by rum and rasin ricotta tart (the raisins are soaking in the rum as I type). Sandy and Benny are drawing me up a very specific list of the ingredients that I am to bring back from Madrid. So far I have giant green unpitted olives in a lemon and chili marinade, chorizo (there will be very detailed specifications later) and the list has just started. My instructions are to take the biggest bag possible with nothing in it, and return with not a gram less than the onboard luggage limit will allow. No wonder they love me!

My domestic duties are enjoyable and really quite engrossing. It gives me a reason to go into various supermarkets where I stand staring at all the types of butter from Sussex, or Surrey, or Cornwall or Cardiff and wonder who cares. I have had discussions with butchers which go something like this:
Greta: "What is that?"
Butcher wearing a funny white hat: "Pheasant love."
Greta: "What is that?
Butcher wearing giant blue and white striped apron: "That would be a goose love"
Greta: "What is that?"
Butcher with giant hands: "It's a Mallard love."
Greta: "What is that?"
Butcher with apple cheeks: "It's a Christmas haggis love."

And on it goes. The only conclusion I can draw is that everyone here loves me. This has been confirmed by the woman on the checkout, the bus driver, the mobile phone salesman, the girl who sold me a coffee and the very grumpy, snarly woman in the Tourist Information Centre. They all called me love, so it must be true.