I sat down for my supper last night, at the usual time. Mrs Hnaef sat down in her usual place, with a bowl of broccoli soup. I'm not a big fan of broccoli soup, but I must admit that Mrs Hnaef makes a darn good soup with it, so after five minutes of watching her eating it, I wandered out into the kitchen to get some for myself.
There wasn't any.
Mrs Hnaef's giving me up for Lent has further consequences than just a quieter life. And I'm not sure I can face the unkind, and in some cases ribald, remarks that may ensue if I eat all of my meals with the rest of the community.
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