I am not going to write much.
I am sitting on the taxi rank being very pleased that the rush of customers has died off for a few minutes, and I have had a busy day without an extra afternoon snooze.
Hence I would very much like to be reading my book and yawning, but I thought that first I might drop you a few lines in order that you know I have not forgotten you.
We have been consolidating our domestic affairs. Mark has put Oliver’s new shelves up, thus completing his bedroom rehabilitation, and I re-boiled the underdone jam.
Whilst in the middle of filling the jars I had an inspiration, and left the last little bit in the bottom of the pan.
I chucked a couple of bars of chocolate into it, added butter, cream, salt and an egg yolk and melted it together and put it to set.
The result was a large block of a rather splendid black currant-flavoured chocolate, which we do not think will last very long. We have all filled tubs with it to bring to work, and we are sitting eating chocolate, stickily, in between customers.
I will put the recipe in the recipe section some time soon. It is ace, although would be better dipped in more solid chocolate, because of not being able to wash my hands on the taxi rank.
We had to wash the sheets when we got up, because Roger Poopy brought his girlfriend for a visit this morning. His girlfriend belongs to a friend of the Number Two Daughters, and she is appealingly soft and fluffy, unlike Roger Poopy. Unfortunately this morning she was also muddy.
We did not mind this, because it is almost always a pleasure to have extra visitors in our bed, and the sun was shining again, after a week of dreadful grey skies and rain.
It has been lovely to have sunshine again. We had a cup of tea in the garden whilst Mark dismantled the dehumidifier to find out why we had a huge puddle underneath it. We seem to have a lot of leaks at the moment. The washing machine is leaking, and the freezer was leaking until we discovered that one of the drawers had an enormous iceberg behind it and was stuck open, and Roger Poopy still leaks occasionally, if he gets too excited.
I am going to stop there. I have written this during every spare minute I have had, and it has taken me six hours to get this far. I am fed up of trying and would prefer to be reading my book, which is a splendidly trashy read about people who are serving life in prison. I got it out of the library in order to prepare myself for my new career, but secretly it is full of fascinatingly horrible detail, and I am enjoying it very much.
I am going to go and read it.
I will write to you tomorrow instead.
