Dilly needed to go shopping, but Squiffany didn’t feel like going out. So she visited Granny. We did some painting. Then we decided to make cakes.
Butter and sugar are effectively mixed by hand
The bantams were keen to help and donated three eggs
Fingers were made before thumbs, as my father used to say, obscurely
Mm, cakes
Mmm, cakes and orange juice.
Baking with the kids, one of life’s simple joys…
Al doesn’t have that many childhood memories; he Lives for the Day. But he remembers the time we were making cakes and he cracked an egg and the contents shot in the air and landed on his sister’s head. She was good-natured enough to laugh, which was just as well, as he and I were falling about.
He also remembers the time he stuck out his tongue just as I was adding the golden syrup and slurped a big mouthful. He was a Very Good little boy and this was startlingly outside his normal behaviour. So again, I was free to laugh.
Blimey, Bit of a hyena, wasn’t I. Or a kookaburra. I think I prefer kookaburra.
Except for its alternative name, of course.