Bad mother confession #437 - How long's a piece of cheese string?

There is no cheese in the house. This isn't usually a problem in itself; no cheese in the house means less chance of a late night cheese and biscuit raid and a greater chance of my diet remaining 'clean' for a few more minutes. But preparing tonight's dinner, I realise it's the third time this week I've served up tuna and pasta. I made a vat of it two nights ago and it's still filling the pot. So I take the chefly decision that I will bake it in the oven rather than re-heat it on the hob, in the vain hope that this will dramatically alter the flavours and textures and no-one will complain too loudly. I also decide to throw over a quick homemade cheese sauce. And therein lies the crux of the problem: there is no cheese in the house. At least, none that isn't the colour it's supposed to be and doesn't smell of fish. So that all goes in the bin. I find my solution, rather predictably, in the lunchbox Cheese Strings that are lurking in the back of the fridge - vacuum-packed to survive goodness knows what and so overly processed that no microbes are likely to set up a colony on its surface. I'm not even sure they melt at high temperatures and I'm more than a little perturbed at the smell of cooking plastic as I stir them into the sauce. It's my imagination. I hope.

Anyway, there's now the sound of three munching mouths in the living room, drowning out The Flintstones that's still raging from the TV in the other room. So far, so good...