Wednesday, 30 September 2009
unidentified sponge-like objects
My Nana Westwell would be proud. If she didn't have a potato peeler in her hand, she would be up to her elbows in self-raising. These circular babies belong to J who happens to be 12 on Saturday. He has a talent for making eggs, flour and butter spring into fluffy action. He is blessed with the Westwell talent for whisking.
I hope you can forgive this maternal bragging. Sometimes I just can't help myself. I do realise it's quite unseemly but as I'm not prone to doing this every day, I feel I can get away with the odd swell of the bosom.
I am listening to the Archers whilst typing this. I have finally managed to download Realplayer. It does sound a bit tinny though. Better than nothing I suppose.
It's dark already. I have a poorly looking broody chicken. She has been sitting on eggs for weeks with the occasional foray into the fresh air. She's aged about 10 years and looks sad. I'm going to give her the weekend but if she doesn't perk up (and I don't believe I'm saying this), I'm going to have to take her to the vet! I have never been to a vets having avoided pet ownership (unless you count elderly guinea pigs). In any case, it's time to lock them up for the evening, otherwise they tend to go to the pub and go binge-drinking.
Posted by janicebotterill at 18:59