I never mention what I'm preparing for supper, I simply try to cook a variety of dishes that I know we both like.
However, at some point in the late afternoon Lady Magnon invariably asks "What's for supper?"
And here is the fun bit. I never reply 'Beans on toast', or 'Sausage-n-mash', but attempt to make whatever we're having sound as exotic and appetising as possible.
Take last night for example. Following her standard question, I replied "Tonight we are visiting the Mediterranean shores of Italy; somewhere just south of Rome, where the local gaily dressed fishermen are singing traditional old sea shanties as they land their night's catch. Meanwhile, on the fertile inland wheat-growing plains, grand-mamas are busily hand-forging the finest flour into a delicious accompaniment. All to be served with a very pleasant, expertly matured, Merlot from the Languedoc".
"Something like sardines on toast?" she asked.
"No dear, we're having spaghetti with a delicious creamy seafood sauce". I reply grumpily.
This happens every single day in this house. I'm not kidding, it really does!