Slept well. Whatever that means. Got out of bed gasping for a cuppa but before even putting the kettle on I roughed up some more bread dough. I think the result was well worth the gasping. See above.

Yesterday's dinner was a bit queer on account of my need to ditch the norm in favour of the odd. I thought a raita would cool down the spicy chicken so mixed a chopped apple and spoonful of mint sauce into a bowl of Greek yoghurt. Result? Orgasmic sounds from the old bloke.
Rice went a bit strange and glutinous because of the addition of turmeric, taste buds liked it though. I did not imbibe of the wine much because it was a bit out of place on the table of heat, instead I opted for Adam's ale. The picture however tells a different story, but I swear I didn't get squiffy. I always look like that on a Saturday night.

Naans were a tremendous success. Very fluffy interiors with a crisp outer. Perfect for breaking in a theatrical fashion. I did not mumble a prayer though because that would have made John feel uncomfortable what with him being so secular and awful.

The miserable looking tyke loitering on the windowsill is 'Lincoln'. He is made of some heavy material and cost £15. His belly dutifully holds my towel and I love him so much I talk to him about this and that. The kitchen sink is my soap box I chatter to the birds, Monty and now to Lincoln. Never has a woman been so crushingly frustrated.

The huge panoramic pic was made by John on account of 1. He's a fantastic photographer. 2. I bought him a camera. 3. He bought himself a new Tripod. 4. Photography is his passion above anything else.
But he does so get in my flipping way when he's in the kitchen.
***IF YOU WANT TO INSPECT THE PIC YOU MIGHT NEED TO CLICK ON IT. I DON'T KNOW.***

Heating up the kitchen today:
Lasagne made with the usual Bolognaise and a creamy Red Leicester cheese sauce. I'll probably have a slice or two of bread as well. For pud, ice cream and pins and needles...I do so love sitting with my legs tucked.

Ta ta