Well, I don’t know. I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep for all of an hour, lay for another expecting to doze off again, spent yet another hour doing, by torchlight, the foolishly frippery puzzles on the back two pages of Times2 and then got up. I’m slightly disappointed as I will be busy later in the day and won’t have time for a lovely little nap.
Yesterday evening was amusing, though. Dilly and Al had had one of Those Days, which started when the children both woke up and went along to their bedroom at 5.30. It took some time for threats of awful doom if they didn’t go straight back to bed to work and the day went somewhat downhill after that. Al dropped a 3lb box of button mushrooms on the shop floor, a whole tray of raspberries, freshly delivered, was not fit for sale (he’d ordered 5, but he could have easily sold them all) and things were generally slightly out of kilter. Back at home, the children were fractious and Dilly was running late – though her day improved as they all went out with Weeza and did enjoyable things in the just north of Norwich Broadland sort of area. When she arrived home and I invited them all round to dinner, she was pleased.
The Sage went out to light the barbecue, I went to take washing off the line and put more on and at that moment a light rain started to fall. ‘Won’t last’ we agreed, and I pegged out the washing, pleased that I’d rescued the dry stuff. The rain stopped. The Sage lit up. I took stuff out to the table. Rain started again. “That’s all right, look at those broken clouds” the Sage assured me as he left to fetch Al home – Friday is his late opening night and he doesn’t close until 7.
All was well when I started cooking and it was not until we were seated at the table in the garden that a fine but steady rain came down. We huddled under the parasol and giggled. Pugsley wanted to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Ro again – it wasn’t his birthday and he wasn’t there, but we obliged; well the females did. The Sage and Al raised a couple of eyebrows. The parasol proved it wasn’t a parapluie by allowing a thin mist through. Dilly lent Squiffany her cardigan, which she draped over her head and shoulders. A gathered pool of water on my side of the parasol overflowed onto my chair and I squeaked. We observed how very English we must look, all doggedly eating our dinner in the rain – though we’d have got wetter as we ran for cover.
By the time we’d finished, the rain had cleared and some of us chatted and others frolicked.
Today, I am going to judge the Domestic (ie cooking) classes at Lovely Next Village’s Gardening Club Show. I am prepared to enjoy breaking my diet for it, as of course I have to taste everything. This is what I will judge:-
33 Coffee Sandwich Cake, not iced
34 Plate of 6 Meringues
35 6 Chocolate Chip Cookies
36 Cheese and Onion Quiche
37 Loaf of White Bread
38 6 Chocolate Truffles
39 1 Jar of Jam
40 1 Jar of Jelly
41 1 Jar of Chutney
42 l Jar of Pickles
43 6 Eggs
44 1 bottle of Homemade Elderflower Cordial
45 Men’s Class Bread and Butter Pudding
Last year, there were four entries in the pickle class, which were all so different but all excellent, that I gave four first prizes. No one minded, it’s that sort of village. There is no such thing as Not As Scheduled, each entry is judged on its taste first and foremost and such matters as size of baking dish is left to the entrant. The men’s class is usually wonderful. Last year, it was lemon cake. It was hard to choose, especially between the first two, which were the best lemon cakes I’d ever tasted.
The eggs will be still in the shell and uncooked. I will crack one from each plate and inspect the contents, but not eat them.
* An pat on the back for the first to give me the next line.