..After a spat with Mother last night I retired early to my room with a jar of Boots cold cream and book about life in the Middle Ages. And by Middle Ages I mean the fourteenth century and not what happens when one hits 50+. That's a whole new story, epic at some stages. At any rate I tiptoed to bed. The Cold Cream by the way, is excellent and fairly priced. Keeping youthful needn't cost a lot. Mind you, being abstemious regarding alcohol helps de-puffyfy:)

This morning before the cock crowed, another spat, this time there was nowhere to go except the kitchen so therein I wept. Not literally of course just internally. My whole set of innards churning and squirming by what ma had said. The beastly thing is sometimes she's right. The woman has mastered the knack of aiming for my jugular and never missing AND IT HURTS!

We haven't spoken since and I haven't hoovered the messy mat.

When events leave a rancid smell in my nostrils I bake. So after popping to the shop I set about making some bread, a gnocchie topping  and some Hazelnut Pieces, possibly the nicest tasting fancies I make. A simple sponge mixture hides a cinnamon and hazelnut underbelly. Gorgeous.
The gnocchie which is cut into fingers, is the roof which covers lightly fried lean pork, sage, lots of garlic and sliced regular mushrooms. I've made enough just for two, mother wouldn't approve of such a mix so for her a haddock and tuna pie. Everybody happy...

Steering myself away from culinary...Ronnie O'Sullivan is playing fellow Essex man, Ali Carter this afternoon. Should be worth braving the drawing room.

Now I must fly.