Good Sunday Stuff

Good news!

I have not killed Philippe.

This would be better had I not cheated and made my mum tend to him when she came for dinner yesterday. Thank you mum.

I have not killed Tiberius.

I have even managed to free Tiberius from her tortoise table and let her perambulate around Tilly’s room without Derek trying to kill her. My ambitions as a tortoise rearing sort of woman grow ever more dizzying.

Oscar and I have finished a book we have been reading for months, on and off (Oath Breaker by Michelle Paver). It made me cry, first because it was sad, then because it was happy. I bawled like a baby. He thought I was insane. He offered me a cushion to blow my nose on. I declined.

I feel that I have struck a blow for the improvement of domestic standards in our house.

And taught Oscar a valuable life lesson that he will take with him wherever he goes.

I am still far, far behind with my reading list, some of which is on a review based deadline. I am hoping not to fall asleep into page three this evening to move things along. Fingers crossed.

I am eating the rhubarb crumble cake I made from Liberty London Girl‘s recipe book, which you can get here. It is very nice. I am trying to resist the urge to warm up some custard and eat it with the cake. It would go very well with custard, but my midriff protests too much.

Homework continues. We have written a startling expose of what would happen to you if you were chased by a grumpy fairy (she would definitely make you do the chicken dance).  We are having a break before we do the spelling story. Oscar is using the time to play in the sink (still one of his very best favourite things to do, bless him) and I am hunkered down in here, flicking rhubarb cake all over the keyboard and avoiding thinking of plot for the story.

I am impressed with myself that I managed to liberate the salmon from the freezer that I intend to cook this evening (LLG’s book once more). I usually have great plans, which are thwarted by the fact that the key ingredient is frozen solid, and I do not own a microwave oven. As I mentally patted myself on the back I wondered if this brief efficiency would continue, and thereby prove that I am growing up or something.

In a word.

No.

P.S. On a more serious and wonderful note, you should read this blog post by my friend Belgian Waffle. It’s beautiful.

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