You see before you the blog of an unhappy man. I’m short on time and I have somehow managed to consign the hundred or so laboured words of my first attempt to pixelated oblivion. I’m not quite sure how it happened – a flurry of fingers, a wrongly selected key and it just disappeared. I cannot find it.
Today’s session, free from the tyranny of seriousness and sourdough, was a light-hearted affair featuring an amount of witty repartee and a helping of classic double entendre in the style of the Carry On films. Everyone enjoyed themselves, everyone baked good loaves (though some were of a decidedly rustic nature) and everyone took turns in the jokes about soggy bottoms, or, more rarely, nice firm bottoms.
If you recall our last attempt at Honey and Oatmeal bread, when Gail was away, we produced similar loaves – excellent but rustic – and did it all without needing to resort to smut about bottoms. The session on that occasion was conducted with the reverence and decorum that only a group of middle-aged men can bring to such a proceeding.
I’m not saying anything more, you may draw your own conclusions.
In passing, we had some form of icy snow last night in Screveton (though not around our house in Nottingham) and we now have two bookings confirmed for the craft fair on Open Farm Sunday.
It’s all looking good.