It was Heather's birthday on Tuesday and, co-incidentally, Pancake Day (or Shrove Tuesday, if you are a traditionalist.) So I suggested a pancake-themed birthday dinner topped off with the enormous cake made by Andy...
...which in itself had caused much huffing, puffing and cursing in its construction, and some lateral thinking damage limitation process involving many Maltesers, which isn't always a bad thing, is it?
Anyway, it was a birthday pancake plan. And we all know what happens to plans in THIS house, don't we? They laugh at us, that's what happens.
(Excuse me whilst I pour myself a cuppa. I have brought tea making facilities upstairs today so I have them directly on hand. For today I am in writing mode and do not want to break the flow by visitations to the kitchen for refreshments.)
So, Tuesday evening, Andy is on squash, goat's cheese and rosemary pancake duty, I am on plain pancake duty for the filling with cheese, tomato, herb and garlic sauce and ham for carnivores purposes, Kayleigh is on sous chef and pretending-to-be-a-snake-whilst-laying-the-table duty. There were two of us cooking side by side at the oven which is okay because it is a double oven range type contraption with 5 burners and, providing one is organised, the situation works well.
However, during the course of multiple pancake juggling, a Le Creuset dish (heavy, orange, 8 x 10 inches, wedding present, slippery) went crashing to the floor and made a noise commensurate with heavy pot colliding with stone tiled floor. Accompanied by me screeching and Andy swearing.
Well, it was okay. The dish was, as I explained to sous chef snake Kayleigh, only a 'thing', and no, I wasn't angry or upset because 'things' can be replaced if necessary, and I would only be upset if someone had got hurt in the process, but no-one did so everything was okay and look! We were having PANCAKES! And Grandpa didn't mean to swear and I didn't meant to screech, it was just a bit of a surprise, that was all.
Five minutes later, the cuckoo clock went off, signalling the o'clock. Our cuckoo clock contains a horse (of course!) and wild galloping sounds preceed its emergence from behind its stable doors with a loud 'whinney...neigh!'
Now, you don't have to wait until the o'clock to enjoy this fun. Oh no, you can make this fun happen by pressing a button on the side of the clock at ANY time you want. So Andy picked up Kayleigh so she could press the button, and some how the clock came crashing to the floor bringing with it (as it passed a shelf) a glass vase filled with dried poppy heads and an earthenware duck ornament. More crashing, screeching and swearing. None of these 'things', as you can imagine, survived the collision with the floor.
Good grief, but it was a noisy nerve-jangling ten minutes! I blame it on our resident ghost, Mrs Black. She has got wind of our thoughts of selling the house again and even though it is our house to do with as we wish, she still regards it as her house and does a bit of poltergeisty kicking off whenever change looms. She needs to stop it...NOW!
Anyway, the pancakes were good, the cake (as Kayleigh said) was 'awesome' and we now have a dish, a vase, a clock and an ornament less to pack when we move. Every cloud, silver linings and all that rubbish.
Which leads me to yesterday. What did I do all day yesterday? I sewed. That is all I did. I lit the woodburner and sat by it all day sewing. It was VERY peaceful and quiet and my ears were not jangled a single once by loud crashings. All was calm. The loudest thing was the sound of my needle 'popping' through the fabric and the fire 'popping' in the woodburner. Oh, and women screaming as they gave birth because I am ploughing my way through the boxed set of 'Call the Midwife' which Andy gave me for Valentine's Day. But they can be silenced by a mute button, so it was manageable screaming at least.
My quilt has thusly made some significant progress...
...having spent ages shuffling the flowers around on the bed in order to get the most aesthetically pleasing colour combination. (If you look carefully you can just see Flora Bijou Mybug at the top of the photo. She was NO help at all.)
Now I am sewing everything together and I have reached the point where the sewed together bit is significantly large enough to force me into something which I believe is known as 'quilt wrangling.' There is a lot of fabric to woman-handle whilst attaching each small hexagonal piece of the puzzle. It is more effective than a gym work-out, i can tell you. I might have it finished by the time I am 87.
And today I am writing. I have a competition deadline to meet. And if I complete 1,000 acceptably strung together words by lunchtime, I'll treat myself to another peaceful afternoon of sewing and Disc 6 of 'Call the Midwife.'
Right then. Crack on!!
Peace to you all on this sunny February day!