This is definitely the weather for enjoying hot soup to warm you through to your bones. It can be tinned or homemade - both hit the spot, especially with croutons sprinkled on top or thick crusty bread toasted and slathered in butter or olive oil.
I've had a few escapades regarding soup over the years. One time, I was minding my friend's daughter for the night and thought I'd rustle up some homemade soup for her and my two daughters. I hadn't done it before and had been happily humming away as I chopped and then stirred my creation on the hob. I added the concoction to a blender, only for it to spurt over the edges and scold my chest. I screamed out in pain and my husband's glass of red wine flew out of his hand and smashed to the floor. My friend's daughter looked alarmed. It wasn't a good moment. I said I needed to have a cold shower as I'd burned my skin and he reluctantly offered to clean up the mess. I came down refreshed and ready to complete my task. My husband was pouring his second attempt drink, after a hard day at work, when I screamed again after managing to electrocute myself touching the socket, where some soup still remained and had made it wet. My husband jumped out of his skin, shook his head at me and disappeared in the other room - with a slightly shaky hand clasping his wine glass. Eventually, we sat down to half chunky, half smooth vegetable soup and, hopefully, it calmed everyone's rattled nerves as well as warmed them up.
Another time, I was preparing soup - this time to be on the safe side, just heating up Covent Garden spinach soup for my sister, nephew, my girls and I for lunch. My nephew was suffering from a cold and as he leant over to see what we were having, sneezed over one of the bowls. I left the contaminated soup on the side and brought the other bowls to the table. Absent-mindedly, I went to get my bowl and picked up the sneezed on one by mistake and only realised when I was half way through eating it...
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