It was sunny this morning and I felt good despite my brand new cooker being faulty. (Oven only knows how to work on full tilt, result being... loads of burnt cake bottoms. Distressing and painful for a cook like me.)
We've contacted Argos and man will be around some time to sort it out.

On the loving mum front, I still do. Her two appointments at the eye clinic were educational. In a nutshell she has diabetic maculopathy and a little glaucoma. Drops were prescribed by the doctor and an invitation for laser treatment. I could barely lift my weary bones from the plastic chair.

On alighter brighter note the party I threw for Mr Hairy's birthday was a mixed bag. The oven as I said earlier was on the blink resulting in blackened fries for the little boy and overdone pork chops for the grown-ups. Red cabbage was ok though. The black cherry trifle was smashing, even the chance of dripping wax from tiny coloured candles didn't disuade Mr Hairy Suit form grabbing the biggest fattest spoon and helping himself to loads.
His birthday present was a plate of apple and cream buns made with yeasted dough, apple puree and whipped double cream. The buns were nicely iced with a simple vanilla glace icing. Rivulets of the lovely stuff making for a little decoration. He was over the moon.
He said he loved the way I'd decorated not only the trifle and buns but the kitchen also, balloons and happy birthday banner adorning the duck egg blue walls and yellow curtained window.
 I love colour and giving parties.

The terracotta and green front room is chaotic.
Mum's belongings are growing at a horrible rate. So many books, bags and jumpers litter the lounge that I feel nauseous every time I enter, what was once, my tidy own sanctuary. (Mr Horsehound and I had a bit of a blitz on mum's area this morning and the stuff we found under her bed was sad. Cancer tablets, two Bounty bars and a pair of black patent shoes, which, when mentioned to mum sent her off the radar. She wanted those shoes, they were going home with her. I've learned to keep my own counsel and agree that everything will be ok and that the smart 2 inch heeled shoes will be worn in London when she's better.

Talking of hope...My Sunday chicken has been jointed and is being grilled instead of oven roasted.
Brentford are playing Chelsea in the 4th round of the FA cup.

The sky has turned from a beautiful coloured pencil blue into smudge grey. But.
Daffs by the door are surging forth...............