The 'ard stuff

I have to admit to feeling absolutely demolished. Today has been one of those days when I had to cook to keep sane. I needed and wanted to do something that only I could do and which required no assistance from anyone else. So a bakeathon ensued.

Yesterday was truly tiring. I'll not be doing it again. No more five hour trips around Southend with a teary Mother and aching knee joints (mine not hers). Apart from Mother dissolving as waves of sadness overtook her I and Mr H, were crumbling too. He's a good man is Mr H. a patient kindly man but Mother's mad keenness to buy jimjams and blouses and other non-essentials made me fear for his well being. He's not like me, I let it out, he's a preserver, risking the chance of going completely barmy one day, probably when doing the un-done washing up.
Me? I've so much flowing off my plate that I barely notice anything anymore.

So today I dissed breakfast preferring instead to take sustenance from bags of bread flour and mixed dried fruit.
I was gone, away with the culinary fairies, I suppose it's like being on drugs, one sniff n'swallow and all seemed cool on my planet.

And by jolly jingo do I need to be cool....

As Scarlett said "Tomorrow is Another Day", and so it is, and I of course have a heavy diary, but I'll tick the to-do list one by one and then make a nice dinner and then have tea.
Another bake? Oh I should think so:)

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Goodnight All.