You don’t bring me flowers
You don’t sing me love songs
But what you do is cook rice perfectly and after last month’s scary heart post op recovery I was reminded of that when I ballsed up the rice.
So, Big Welsh with your at last properly working heart, your roughy toughy exterior, your wicked sense of humour at times and I stress at times, your dry comments often confused with sarcasm and your acceptance of my haphazard slapdash approach to growing up I’ve got 3 words to say to you …… Rice cooking supremo.
As Barbara Streisand once said ……