A Bit Of A Jam

I have reached that point in life where the mileometer clicks over another number. Fortunately, it was not one ending in a zero, but it is still another depressing digit to add to my tally.

At breakfast, I was searching in the provisions cupboards for a replacement jar of jam, to replace that which was recycled yesterday.
"Any idea where the jam is?" I enquired of DH,
"I can't seem to find any!"
"Try looking in the cupboard!" was the helpful advice.
'I am..."
After a deep sigh, DH lumbered into action, long ape-like arms impersonating a windmill. A variety of packets, boxes, tins and jars were cast aside whilst the search for the elusive jam was underway. DH was keen to prove that it was entirely a matter of my incompetence that was preventing the jam from being located.
"Well, you don't seem to have any!" was his final verdict.







A few minutes later he came in brandishing a gift bag,
"This was left for you,"
I opened it and inside were four cylindrical objects, in a variety of wrappings.

I opened the first - JAM!

I opened the second - JAM!

I opened the third - JAM!

I opened the fourth - JAM!

I was delighted.

DH looked on with a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

"You MUST have known about this! he spluttered.
"Nope, didn't have a clue! But it sure gets me out of a jam.."