Happy winter solstice.
Some days of isolating even more than usual, and using up most of the things in the fridge, in preparation for entering the support bubble. Then I entered the support bubble.
A relaxing time. Read an entire book, ate a bit of chicken (which I mention because if a fowl is slaughtered for one’s eating it’s only polite that one acknowledges its sacrifice in one’s blog), potato, and so on. (Which reminds me: there’s been a food retail advert on UK commercial radio in recent weeks where a lady says “…those extra-crispy roast potatoes” and the beep beep beep of a fire alarm is heard in the background – how is that alarm sound allowed, don’t they know about the boy who cried wolf?) And, for one whole day, I didn’t do any work.
Made some mince pies (“Christmas pies”). I’d attempted some last week, which were nothing to write home about – perversely, I put some ground almonds in the pastry, and possibly undercooked the shop-bought mincemeat (whose best before date was too far in the future for my liking). These were better, flaky of pastry, but my downfall is mincemeat bubbling over the sides and making everything stucky – what’s that about, not sealing the lids properly with cold water, not pricking holes in the lids, or overfilling?
Tier 4 bebeh.