Nancy and I are having a bit of a break for the moment. We have not fallen out at all, it’s just that I am too tired to figure out where I put the book for ‘safe keeping’ while I cleaned the house earlier. When I locate it again, probably in the broom cupboard, or propping up the wonky leg of a bed, we will get back to Nancy and her doings.
In the meantime you will just have to make do with me.
It has been a busy weekend. We have, as you might expect, been looking at houses. What we have seen this weekend has been slightly more cheering than last week’s bunch, but the reason for this is that everything we have seen this weekend is a tad over budget and it would take a hefty deal and probably some kind of minor miracle to make them happen for us.
In other news I have been cleaning, baking, cooking, home working, catching up on paper work, and eating quite a lot of cheese (my comfort food of choice at the moment).
I shared my cheese with the cat earlier. She thanked me by going out in the pouring rain and hunting down a poor, defenceless worm, which she brought to me in a proud, feline Fu Manchu way.
I was, as you can imagine, delighted.
Tilly spent all weekend at a friend’s house. Tallulah spent half the weekend with her dad. Oscar drew the short straw by being left with us and a load of property details. Every house we visit he tells me he loves. I’m sure he doesn’t. He just says he does because he is hoping that this will be the definitive answer which means we can stop oohing and aahing over parquet flooring and get home to play on the X Box.
It hasn’t worked. His tastes are questionable, and his adoration increases with the number of Nerf guns or boxes of Lego he finds in a house. He still has not quite worked out that these are the things which do not stay behind, whereas the faint whiff of drains and the problem neighbours do.
One good thing about being trapped with his parents for twenty four, miserable, house hunting hours was that he welcomed Tallulah back with open arms yesterday, and they have been best friends ever since.
This is an unusual state of affairs, as for the most part they tolerate each other, and the rest of the time they are actively trying to kill each other.
Instead of this they have been busily playing a new game. They are playing Great British Bake Off.
It is hilarious.
This was Tallulah’s idea. Like her mother before her, she is developing a small Bake Off obsession. She made her father watch two episodes of it when she stayed with him. He, I am told, found it mildly addictive, which is interesting as he is not in the slightest bit culinary except for making a mean chilli con carne and a cracking roast dinner with spectacular roast potatoes. He does not do baking though. Not even Yorkshire puddings.
He did seem a trifle bemused by the whole concept, but that is because he is behind the times as far as reality television is concerned. He did once, when we were married, try to sell a friend of ours who was a t.v. producer, the idea of a historical reality show called: ‘Medieval Dentist’.
It didn’t work out.
Watching two reruns of Bake Off has meant that Tallulah is the girl with the most plans, and the loudest voice, and as per the Hole song, the most cake.
I never liked Courtney Love. She always looked like she needed a wash, but I did admire her for the line: ‘I wanna be the girl with the most cake.’
Who wouldn’t Courtney?
Tallulah certainly has her eyes on the prize.
She has taught Oscar how to make rum babas. Apparently, these are her speciality. They have also made chocolate biscuits and some kind of pie where the pastry was very tricky and Tallulah was heard shouting: ‘Your time is up! Step away from the pies!’
They have turned corners of their respective bedrooms into ‘kitchens’ where they prepare their culinary delights, and they have been bringing them to us for taste tests all afternoon.
When I went to tuck Tallulah in this evening she was worrying about her cake. She had left it in the oven (her old jewellery box), and didn’t want to fall asleep and let it burn.
Still, at least it’s not Grand Theft Auto I’m worrying about. I just don’t know how to break it to Tallulah that I’m not keen on rum babas.