I’m not starting the holiday updates just yet as today’s been a wee bit trying.
Mini Minx woke around about Oh.My.God.o’Clock cutting her second big molar; then Midi decided around an hour later that she’d slide into my bed and kick me in various sore and skinless bits, just for the hell of it; Maxi capped it all by wetting the bed for the second night in a row about 45 mins later, so around 0500hrs. It was haaaaaard not scolding her, and I had to remind The Boss (through gritted teeth), “Look, make her up a *proper* nest on the floor – this isn’t a punishment, she didn’t pee on the bed on purpose”.
So the colours in my world were rather muted today. And there was me moaning only yesterday that I was so tired that I wasn’t safe to drive. Still, I had to laugh when my day got worse – my business email got hacked and apparently sent 1/4 million emails before my host suspended it. Great! Wonderful day. So I made saffron buns. I’m munching my 5th now and I’m feeling much better. Fancy the recipe?
450g strong white flour
1 teaspoon dried yeast
good pinch each of mace, ground cloves, ground nutmeg
50g caster sugar
100g butter (salty or not, doesn’t matter)
300ml diluted sherry (you decide the proportions of water to sherry – just make it 300ml total)
1/2 teaspoon saffron
Heat up the diluted sherry and steep the saffron in it for as long or as short a time as you like. Make up the dough with the ingredients (For the breadmaker, that means put all the dry stuff in, add the butter, splosh in the sherry mix, put the currants in the dispenser and hit the ‘raisin dough’ setting) (To do by hand, melt the butter, add to the sherry mix. Mix the dry ingredients. Mix in the currants. Add the sherry mix. Knead like hell. Leave to rise for an hour.)
When the dough is ready, split it into 24 pieces. Plop each into a little muffin hole in a muffin tin (I find the mix doesn’t stick to the tin, so just plonk it in the bare tin, no need to grease or line. Though that might just be the texture I personally make it at, so don’t hate me if yours sticks). Leave to rise for another hour. Bake at Gas 6, 200degC for 20 mins. Leave in the tin 10 mins to cool, then onto a wire rack. Eat, eat, eat!
I’ll add a photo later this week, or you could make them and add a photo of yours…? That would be very cool. Anyway, I’m off to bed. Via the kitchen, for my 6th bun. Oink!
Hi all, we’re back! Been away on a sunny island for 2 weeks, hence the silence. Some of it was great, some of it was bloody awful (but on the bright side it certainly given me brilliant blogging material) and some was just…random.
As I kept a handwritten diary while I was away, as usual, I’ll write each day of the holiday up over the next month. I’ll put each post in a new category ‘holiday 2011’ or something like that so they’re easier to read. And I won’t be publishing any spoilers – you’ll just have to read each day as it ‘happens’.
However, I can’t resist putting this video up right away. Midi Minx and I were chatting on the bed one afternoon, and I changed our chat to a videod, evidenced, interview. The Boss hopes that publication might prevent any boys from sniffing around her or our other daughters. Ever. He might be right…
I’ve had a bad day…don’t push me
Ahhh, don’t mind me, I’m just very grumpy today and will now indulge in a self-centred whine. Brace yourself.
The thing that’s bugging me most is really silly. Midi Minx is in the nursery (pre-school year) class at Maxi’s primary. Midi gets let out 30 minutes after Maxi. It’s a 20 minute walk from home to the school, so going home and back isn’t an option. Our village has a good but very expensive and not very child-friendly cafe. There is nowhere undercover to go or even to stand (nearby bus-stop is open to the wind). Most days that’s fine – Maxi plays with her friends and I chat to parents in the same situation (about 1/3 of the nursery class). When it rains or it’s cold (it’s always very windy: that’s a given) we have to stand around for 30 minutes waiting. Maxi cries or soaks herself in puddles, Mini cries, and I stand and curse as the crappy skin on my fingers splits in the cold, bit by bit. The school headmaster promised us an empty room to use, but in the last few weeks that’s now being used as a breakout classroom. And I’ll never complain about a classroom actually being used as a classroom! Nice one! I know in the greater scheme of things, having to stand in the cold and wet for 5 days a week for 30-35 minutes with your baby isn’t the end of the world. But it makes me miserable and frustrated that I can’t seem to do anything about it unless I join the legions of parents who like to drive their kids 1/4 mile or less to school and then sit in the car with the engine running, right by the school. The school aren’t happy letting the nursery kids out early and lock the doors till going home time. Well, guess what – if there’s nowhere to shelter and the end-times won’t change, then in wet weather from now on, I’m picking up Midi early. Better let me and my other 2 minxes in when I ring the bell! Note: I’ve written to the head to find out the rationale behind the finishing time differential. Perhaps if it’s a good, well thought-out, valid reason it will console me as I stand in the snow. I’ll let you know what it is when I do. And another thing – which part of your brain has to be missing to think it’s ok to pick your kid up in your Chelsea Tractor on the yellow zig zag lines outside the school, then race past a long crocodile of children blowing about in the wind, at pushing 60mph? If Maxi had stumbled off the pavement (again) or been blown into the road (again), she’d have been dead. Did you break a nail, dear? Were you racing to your manicurist? If I see you outside the school gates, you’re going to get a mouthful. Better hope I’ve had some sleep first, or I might be vicious enough to make you cry. Can you tell I got soaked through today on the walk down to pick up Maxi? Then had to stand in the howling, gusting-50mph wind, getting chilled to the bone? And that the hydrocortisone and betnovate aren’t even touching my fingers, so I’m in constant pain, even when it itches? Worse, the skin’s broken so I can’t knit. No knitting = no income for me. I’m proud and like to pay for my own biscuits. I’m just having a pants day and am feeling sorry for myself. Ignore me. I’m sure I’ll go away in a bit 🙂
Edited to fix embarrassing spelling mistakes…