Cheated

That's how I feel.

Here I am, all socially busy and sheeeeet

and I set aside this night

to come and spend some quality time with daddy and the boys

expecting some quality food

something in the line of

(as blogged below)

freshly speared barracuda

huge, thick fillets deep-fried in beer batter

served with a lovely, refreshing salad.

So I am halfway through my fish and slaw

doused in good ole' malt vinegar

something is not right.

I look up and say

"Daddy, what type of fish is this?"

"John Dory."

I start.

This is supermarket purchased.Frozen fish.

"What happened to catching your own fish?" I sputter

Father starts off in tirade about having to watch two

young children and blah blah

no time blah blah

"The water was really clear last weekend Daddy, neep tide. It was fantastic!"

I say, rubbing in the fact that he cannot go.

"Where?Where was it clear? He growls

I tell him Pangkor Laut, where I swum as deep as I could alone

about 8 feet (chicken)

and the water was crystal clear.

"Well it wasn't clear here."

He says, ending the conversation.

You see, I am so spoiled.

I want the fish that Daddy caught himself

and turn my nose down on perfectly fine fish.

I want the wildboar that daddy shot last Sunday,
to stew with juniper berries like

Marlena de Blasi in A Thousand Days in Tuscany.

I am so spoiled.

Yet Daddy choses to spoil us, you see, he did go and try and spear-fish

the water just wasn't clear enough.