|Sleepy Mr Sparrow|
|Shy Collar Dove|
|Long-Tailed Tits have returned!|
|How many Sparrows can you see?|
|Spot the Sparrow #2...|
|Chief Kitchen Assisstant|
|Sleepy Kitchen Assistant|
|Is that a dog on the sofa....?|
You could be forgiven, reading this blog, for assuming that I spend my time baking, sewing, watching wildlife and not much else. This is not necessarily too far from the truth, although this week it has stretched to encompass Christmas wrapping, playing what turned out to be the world's most ill-spelt game of Ecological Hangman ever (with my first year group who found it hysterical, thankfully), and swearing loudly more times than I care to remember at the assignment I am just about finished (how to cost and install a 250m stock fence, a 5m post and rail fence and a 6m x 11m wooden corral for sheep. Safe to say I won't be rushing to offer my services as a fencing contractor any time soon).
Having recovered from last weekend's drinks do, we now have most of my inherited family descending on us for lunch tomorrow. The gin has been restocked and the crisps are waiting. Owing to a father-in-law's passion for fly fishing, we have a freezer stuffed full of fresh, Chalk-Stream-caught 2015 Vintage trout so it's a Perfect Opportunity to off-load it. M is in charge of creating that particular masterpiece. I, meanwhile have been making the Devil's own pudding this afternoon: salted caramel millionaire's cheesecake. Say no more, eh? (If you are desperate for the recipe let me know and I'll bung it up, along with the lip balm one from last week which I know I promised, but I've been running round like a
I've also been baking a lot of bread this week (25% white flour, 75% stone ground wholewheat. Heavenly). It makes you feel disinclined to ever buy bread again. Also to eat too much of it.
AND, I've learnt how to make bunting. Not at all hard as it turns out (thank you You Tube Sewing Ladies). The only difficult part was concentrating during Sewing Club when Ma got a sudden and all-consuming fit of the giggles (in the proper, rolling about on the floor crying and clutching your sides way while the dogs looked on in complete bemusement) while I was musing about making some smaller bunting. She screamed: "Baby Bunting!" A la the 1784 song: "Bye, baby Bunting, Daddy’s gone a-hunting, Mother's gone a milking, sister's gone a silking, Brother's gone to buy a skin to wrap the baby Bunting in" which her dad used to sing her. What is involved with going silking, I wonder? It sounds slippery.
According to Wikipedia, bunting is thought to mean plump. Anyhoo, I thought I'd get some vintage fabric when Ma and I have our much-anticipated trip to our fave fabric shop next week (a building that is stuffed full from floor to ceiling with bolt after bolt after bolt of fabulous fabric of all colours and patterns, as well as all the trimmings you could wish for- the crafters among you will understand the excitement this causes us) and create some bunting from it. I may also be forced to get something girly for my neice's bedrooms. And will probably also succumb to 'looking' (as my lovely blogging chum Rachel puts it) at some Crimble Fabric to make Xmas Bunting with too.....deck the halls....with boughs of bunting, tra la la la la, la la la la. I will post pictures (if it turns out well), because the bunting I made this week is currently adorning the bosom of ma's dressmaker's dummy (with the triangles artfully arranged to preserve her modesty and save everyone else's blushes as she's quite a buxom girl), so I have no pictures of it.
Right, I think that's all of importance caught up. I'm off to catch up with what you've all been doing because I've missed your news this week. And also because there is a terrible noise coming from upstairs where the beer bottles have been having a leisurely bath all day in the steriliser and I need to go and investigate What Is Happening. You know what husbands are like when left to their own devices with Important Household Equipment and Brewing mixed together....
Hope all are well?