cusp of becoming a total 100% fully paid up member of the...
roll of drums please...
sourdough appreciation society,
can’t talk of anything else, evangelical, seen the light, had a visitation in the middle of the night from some other worldly ectoplasm in the form of squidge, more commonly known as starter.
My starter I love like a mother loves her ugly baby. I well remember a woman I met in the maternity hospital who was there awaiting the birth of her baby. When I next saw her I peered into the pram and almost fell back with shock as laid in the pram was quite the ugliest baby I had ever clapped eyes on.
‘Oh what a characterful chap!’
I eventually said after a pregnant pause.
‘Isn’t he the most beautiful boy?’
Adoration shone from her eyes. Now my son was the most beautiful boy without shadow of doubt!?!
So there you have it. I am blind to the roll of eyes, the glazed look, as I endlessly crack on about the joys to all who cross my path. Like a cow-catcher on the front of a train in the old mid West, I sweep all along in my enthusiasm. No worries they are not in the least bit interested, I’m on a roll (white sourdough...naturally)
I can claim one scalp, my son a chef; when I mentioned to him in passing about my latest love, his eyes strange to say, rolled...
‘Who is the old girl’s latest squeeze now?’ As hubs says I do have previous! This time the male of the species can rest easy in their beds as my sights are set firmly on squidge, a harmless obsession I might add!
My son poo-pooed the very idea... ‘Oh yes, we’ve tried it and didn’t have any success!’
He was on their last visit given THE treatment, the sourdough toast for brekkie, a demo, I haven’t cooked on the telly for nothing you know!?!
Sent home with detailed notes, and the starter in the Weck jar with fulsome feeding instructions.
He like a good son has not only grasped the baton but is steaming along in gold medal position.
Err... only trouble now is I do NOT want him to upstage me.
I love him but not that much... my beautiful boy.
This is today’s loaf, photo’s sent naturally to my first convert.
can’t talk of anything else, evangelical, seen the light, had a visitation in the middle of the night from some other worldly ectoplasm in the form of squidge, more commonly known as starter.
My starter I love like a mother loves her ugly baby. I well remember a woman I met in the maternity hospital who was there awaiting the birth of her baby. When I next saw her I peered into the pram and almost fell back with shock as laid in the pram was quite the ugliest baby I had ever clapped eyes on.
‘Oh what a characterful chap!’
I eventually said after a pregnant pause.
‘Isn’t he the most beautiful boy?’
Adoration shone from her eyes. Now my son was the most beautiful boy without shadow of doubt!?!
So there you have it. I am blind to the roll of eyes, the glazed look, as I endlessly crack on about the joys to all who cross my path. Like a cow-catcher on the front of a train in the old mid West, I sweep all along in my enthusiasm. No worries they are not in the least bit interested, I’m on a roll (white sourdough...naturally)
I can claim one scalp, my son a chef; when I mentioned to him in passing about my latest love, his eyes strange to say, rolled...
‘Who is the old girl’s latest squeeze now?’ As hubs says I do have previous! This time the male of the species can rest easy in their beds as my sights are set firmly on squidge, a harmless obsession I might add!
My son poo-pooed the very idea... ‘Oh yes, we’ve tried it and didn’t have any success!’
He was on their last visit given THE treatment, the sourdough toast for brekkie, a demo, I haven’t cooked on the telly for nothing you know!?!
Sent home with detailed notes, and the starter in the Weck jar with fulsome feeding instructions.
He like a good son has not only grasped the baton but is steaming along in gold medal position.
Err... only trouble now is I do NOT want him to upstage me.
I love him but not that much... my beautiful boy.
This is today’s loaf, photo’s sent naturally to my first convert.
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