As mum snoozed and Mr H watched a programme on the beauty of mathematics I relaxed with The Hamlyn Book Of Tea Time Baking. And others of that ilk.

Socked feet resting against Monty's warm fat back, I fingered the pages of the old book in the hope of finding the perfect roll.

Poppy Seed Knots, Kentish Huffkins, Wholemeal Breakfast Baps and Cheese and Celery Bread...All sounding divine.

The Huffkins I've made before, a long time ago, also played around with poppy seeds and sesame seeds, and did at one time, decorate a large white loaf with millions of sunflower seeds. Crunchy and dangerous.

I'm pleased to say that I'm developing a deep and doughy love affair with bread at the moment, and am enjoying fantasies way above my station.

Imagining delectable mixes. Brown and white. Wheatmeal and rye, white with dried onion.

However daunting bread making is, I think everyone with the merest scintilla of skill should have a go at bread, the very staff of life. If the top over browns so what....it can still be scoffed.

I made a lot of Irish Soda Rolls today. They didn't over brown. They emerged in a variety of shades of brown, some nutmeggy others caramelly, a few just suntanned. None though were burnt. In my dreams I have a fan oven...

Made more than usual and made them thicker than usual, so thick that, when baked, they resembled high and mighty Towers.

A few sloped, a couple split at their midriffs, not enough to look bad, or get scolded over, but just enough to look thoroughly home made.

I think that's why I make so many soups.

So I can make so many rolls.

As Mr H. won't be in till 11 I'll treat Mother to a couple of episodes of "Without A Trace" Season 1, I very much doubt she'll get through the opening credits but if she does brutish thuggish yummy Anthony La Paglia should keep her pulse going. He will mine. Licky licky wriggle bum.

Made an Apple flan for tomorrow and not wishing to leave out mother I rustled up a couple of dinky sugar free pies just for her. She woofed them down whilst watching 'Enders. And what a load of tosh that has become.

There are more Moons in Albert Square than in all of heaven. Daft.

Okey Dokey, better dash. Mother is ringing her bell. And I'm not joking, the old darling probably needs her legs stretched.

Cheerio:)

....An early start for us.

Mother being a pain in the neck by saying she didn't want to go to docs.

I being a totally cheesed off daughter was having none of it.

"Get a flannel, comb your hair and then I'll help pull on your tights. We're GOING"

Doc was excellent. His Spanish tongue sometimes a wee bit difficult to understand, but with hand gesticulations, a laugh and a wink, we managed .

He wanted blood he said. Now. So off we went around the corner where Big Nurse looked for a plump vein:)

Mother's face churned, me, I didn't turn a hair:)

As I dropped mum into the car and a nasty wind licked my cheeks I wondered if there'd be anything in the charity shop...

There was.

A pink nightie, blue gloves and faux sheepskin jacket for mum. Oooooh said Marlene on the till looks lovely darling.

Mum giggled handing over £2:50. Winter jackets marked up at £6 actually but Marlene is a good old sort who probably thought mum needs a nice jacket seeing as she's thin with a zimmer.

Bless her.

For myself...A Burleigh make Willow Pattern teacup and saucer. A big cream blanket embellished with florals. And a dark red Bag! Loads of room for my whatnots and bobs. Oh and a Brighton Rock Pink checked overall. 10p in the dressing up box!!!I love it! Teeth white, hair fluffy and my hands holy white with self-raising flour. IT IS SO ME.

While I was perusing the bric-a-brac shelves I heard a commotion.

Looking over towards the window I saw a big built white headed man fiddling around under Mother's zimmer looking, he said, for loose change.

Mother apparently getting in a flap with her handbag and all her coins spilling out.

Yeah ok. I believe ya.

"Ooooh" said Ma as he dropped a fifty pence piece into her lap. "Thank you and mind your head on the radiator"

We all laughed including the new man-helper in the shop, red Mohican hair cut and enormous black and silver boots. Think Terminator.

Born again Christian so no worries.:(

Anyway I digress. Back to mum's new friend....It's at times like these that I KNOW she's going to be alright.

A smile being the surest sign you're relaxed and ready to party.

Takes effort you know.

Popped to get priscription and again the girlie mistook me for Mother, 74.

I smiled oldly snatching the drug bag.... man.

I'll be nuking some soop in a mo, will probably have a heavily buttered bap with it. Then it's movie time then it's mother related work then it's ...what else IS there?

As the day has worn away so have I.
Loved watching the tennis, really helped me relax
Made a good dinner. None left.
But now, with thoughts of Monday morning weighing heavy on my slight shoulders, I'm feeling a bit desperate!
I've had a tiff with a mate and it's made me sad. I've waved a sodding olive branch about, but so far no takers. So blow you.
Have to be up early to take mum to docs, and she isn't at her best in the morning and neither am I so Monday morning should be entertaining:(
So with my old handbag by my side and cherry red lipstick still on my lips, I'll toddle off to the bedroom, just in time to catch 'The Ghost' a good film, probably won't see the end credits but so what:)

Goodnight All.

Rafa v. Novak.
The best tennis match I've ever watched.
And I've been watching for 40 years. Dearie.

Unbelievable skill, strength, a little humour and the cherry on the cake...Novak's impersonation of The Incredible Hulk when he'd finally floored the Spaniard.
Run. Gasp. Yell. Then the Rip Off of the shirt. Horrible. Clean chested, with just the merest hint of sweat. A thump of his chest. Then a pound of the hoardings over which his family and coach sat. Spectacular sight. I mean, I've seen bangings before but not of this level.

Meanwhile Rafa sat soaked. I adore his temperament both on and off the court and could only imagine how zonked and disappointed he was at losing out again to the mighty Serb.

4 more big tournaments to come this year. American, French, Wimbledon and the Olympics. And if any of them are half as excellent as what I witnessed today then we're all in for a sweaty summer!

Only British food from now on.
I mean it.
Made a curry last night and had the most dreadful of nightmares.
In them I'd lost the cat.
I was hanging by my fingertips from a moss covered wall a million foot high.
People were hitting me with boulders.
My screams went unheard.
I was back in London in a terrible flat.
I was screaming.

Now whether or not that was due to an overdose of Patak's Tikka Masal Paste I just don't know. I mean, what else could cause such terror.

So when I escaped from the bed this morning I flung open the conservatory doors embracing the chill and vowed that from this day on only British food will served in the bungalow. Bungalow? Indian origin isn't it? Just have to move I spose:)

Anyway Sunday beckons and as Rafa plays Novak in the Australian Open Final I am in full working gear.... British white lace pinny and cup of tea.

Being cooked today.
A British Chicken.
Carrots.
Peas.
Roast potatoes.
Yorkshire pud.
And gravy.
Will have a spoonful of Quince jelly on the side.

For pudding...Apple and Blackberry Crumble and either double cream or custard.

Hope Rafa wins and hope mum sticks to her promise of venturing outside the front room to visit the conservatory. A humble yet important place. Especially for someone whose been lounge bound for two months.

See you later:)

Steak and Kidney Pud

Chocolate castles with chocolate and cinnamon sauce

The Best Syrup Pudding

Meatballs with tomato sauce and spaghetti

Soup

Eclairs with whipped cream and dark chocolate icing

Minced Beef Poy

A bursting Steak Pud.

Being around food makes me feel all warm and satisfied so today I'm making:

Leek soup
Irish Soda Rolls

Chicken tikka masala with potatoes and tomatoes.
garlic and coriander naan
rice

If I have the time I'll rustle up tomorrow's pudding which will probably be apple and blackberry crumble. I have some Greek yoghurt which would make a good accompaniment but knowing my lack of imagination a jug of custard will be the crumbles mate.
Greek yoghurt is a fav of mine and is an ingredient of my Apple Flan which will be knocked together in the week.
So first on the list is leek soup, due to having mother in the bungalow a lot of soup is being consumed, usually tinned which, for the price, isn't worth it. Only one worth nuking is Heinz Carrot and Coriander.
Canned soup doesn't do it any more.
Especially when you've tasted home made.

Talking of home made comfort... last night's Cauliflower cheese was so gorgeous Mr H. had 'thirds'. Made a smashingly simple cheese sauce using mature English Cheddar, English mustard and good grating of nutmeg. Absolutely creamy.
Poured it over steamed colli then topped it with blitzed oaty bread.
Served with fried back bacon and baked tomatoes.
Blissful.
No pud though on account of the lateness of the hour.
Blasted trains.

Now I must fly.......................:)