My day has been good and what I wrote about my Journal plus someone else’s blog about her Post Natal Depression which is something I have never suffered from
Thank you girls, its a home day today Heather is doing house work and I am watching Homes Under the Hammer and doing facebook on here and tweeting so I have become an ambidextrous multi tasker, OH forgot to add watching the garden birds as well. No end to my talents
Jackie if the previous owners didn’t feed the birds in your back garden it will take a while for them to get used to it, you’ll have to be persistent …they will come eventually.
Where I live there was no house at all before we built here, it took several weeks before any birds came , now they eat me out of house and home but they give me such joy!
Now listen Don, Homes Under the Hammer is not something I would ever admit to even though I watch it on a Monday, Thursday and Friday. It is not a guilty pleasure, it is a secret fetish which represents our desire to just wave a magic wand to turn filth, neglect and chaos into something beautiful. If only we could get a whoosh for ourselves.
As for the bacon butties; I am like the reformed smoker scoffing audibly at those poor souls in the doorways of bars and pubs puffing desperately at their little cigarettes. I’ve weaned myself off bacon sandwiches. And there are big green whales flying around my flat this evening.
I love a bacon roll, not a sarnie though, if i was to use bread I’d have to make it toasted. I’m a bit of a bread weirdo… The important question is though… smoked bacon or unsmoked?? I’m in the smoked camp everytime. A smoked bacon roll & HP sauce, oh an a tattie scone too - now that’s perfection! I’m hungry now…
Oh no. Dare I say it but we make our own brown sauce. How middle class is that? But when I realised that HP had gone a bit too sweet after production went abroad, I was struggling with its taste. Daddie’s was ok but I longed for something with punch. It was easy to make and it gives an extra dimension to breakfast.
I occasionally get to Whitstable and have homemade granary bread cut in doorsteps with three rashers of unsmoked bacon, occasionally eggs in there as well two of them and coffee. I sit in the car get smothered in bacon grease and egg yolk and then go home to change I darent eat in pubic anymore because I don’t think eating should be a spectator sport.
I might try and persuade Heather I need a Whitstable special tomorrow.