So that's where they went?

Sulking would be a more accurate description.  But four weeks of it?

Apparently she’d eaten all thirty pieces of his stuffed morels.  I wondered why things had gone quiet.

These were no ordinary morels.  Frederick had to cross international borders; meaning a passport renewal.  He hates having his picture taken.  The MOT close ups are the reason he doesn’t drive anymore.

The pleasure of tromping through woodland in search for the elusive fungus outweighs the inconvenience of a double chin.

You were wondering where the evidence was?  Mrs. F. knows.

Garlic and crab stuffed morels.  Thirty pieces of gland aching delight.

Who amongst us could resist?

What does that leave us with?  Zucchini. 
To be continued.