BBQ, BBQ, Wherefore Art Thou…

Some lovely spring weather has ‘sprung’ over the weekend inspiring all sorts of unseasonal behaviour…smiling, sunglasses and shirtless men (the latter seems to be a phenomenon related to sunny, cloudless skies and unrelated to the actual temperature!). For me, it was a weekend of fervent gardening (aka re-potting survivors and adding some newcomers to the fray that is my assortment of plant pots), a few gentle G&Ts (aka gin & tonics) in the late afternoon and, of course, a BBQ dinner.

Our BBQ fare is really an ensemble arrangement: with me being a non-red meat eater, some sort of marinated chicken usually features, ably supported by veggie sausages or burgers. The division of labour is equitable too: I make the salad and then settle down with a glass of wine or other delightfully alcoholic beverage whilst J proves that men can actually multi-task by drinking beer as he manages ‘the BBQ’. It’s evenings like this, watching him prod the snags (aka sausages) with drink in hand, that I really do consider myself fortunate to have an Englishman in my life who loves a BBQ even more than this little Aussie sheila…so there is never a need to nag him about the need to uphold this great Australian tradition in Ol’ Blighty…

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