Taste of success

Alas, my statement about conquering some exercise today was over optimistic. Today has been a day where I have focused on domesticity first and foremost. And alas I have the sweet smell of success wafting from the kitchen.

Firstly, I allowed Pete to indulge his Andrew Marr obsession. It was some Nick Clegg special or something, well all I heard them talking about was him. There was a bit of judgment about him smoking, and him telling Kirsty Young that his luxury item on Desert Island Discs would be a stash of cigarettes. I’m a former smoker, not at all through any anti-smoking fascism or anything, but through choice. It irritates me to high hell when people sit there and metaphorically tut at people who do choose to smoke, we all know it kills we all know it’s unhealthy, but people do choose to do it, get over it.

Bit bored of the highbrowness of Andrew Marr, I went to Aldi and Sainsburys to pick up some bits for dinner and daily life. I decided to make the Malt Cupcakes from the Primrose Bakery book. This is using the Ovaltine I fortunately have in bulk after an impulse buy last year from Macro. I mixed up a big old batch, which includes a tablespoon of soured cream which I would not usually buy just to use one spoonful in things but I wanted to test out this book’s credibility. The cakes baked perfectly. 25 minutes and the new cake tester I got on holiday was as clean as a whistle. I set about making the icing. Hmm. I didn’t see that it needed double cream as well as butter and about a bar and a half of chocolate. I abandoned ship and went back to the Hummingbird Bakery’s recipe. Chocolate icing was made. Taste test? Awesome. I may make a malted vanilla icing next time, adding Ovaltine rather than cocoa and vanilla, as I’m just not that bothered with chocolate desserts outside of a Red Velvet cupcake. But I will report back to you on that, I need maybe one more attempt next week before I go public with my baking at the Out of Office party.

Made the slow roasted beef again today, with cauliflower cheese, which was a gorgeous dinner. Watched last weeks Grand Designs, with the gorgeous girl called Catherine who was an interior designer in Falmouth. It was immense what she did, her home was fabulous. It was so inspiring. I tell you, I’m going to make sure if I sort out my bakery/cafe I’m hiring her to do the design. It’s one of those catch 22 situations when these people go on tv, could be good could be bad. For her, that entire tv show is now her portfolio.

Now I’m just settled, full of belly and relaxing before the hellish return to work tomorrow. Firstly will have to Wade through the e mail hell, then find out where I am with files and what I need to do, then face those annoying people who call at 9:02am on your first morning back at work and then ask you to do something urgently. Surely people know that at that time you are actually fighting the urge to scream and trash the place because you don’t want to be back, not have conversations with people who are basically saying to you hi, welcome back, I want you to do this please. Asap. Now. I get so annoyed. And I can tell you exactly who it will be. I know the people. But alas I will say nothing, and just roll with it, however annoying it may be.

Right, have videoed x factor and will catch up with who got sent home before people’s facebook updates tell me so. Sky Plus was built for shows like X Factor. Why watch in real time? It’s in fact a 40 minute programme trussed up like 2 and a Half hours. Take out the clichés and comedy bits about Mary from Tesco going out to Oxford Circus Top Shop (please explain to me what she and Wagner did in that shop. I think I have found who it is who buys those bags of Haribos and Chupa Chups, the Over 28’s on promo trips) and you have about 35 minutes of singing and comments, maximum.

Oh heavens, the Sunday blues are about the set in. Must keep my chin up, not worth the torment. Got a week to plan my Christmas cake. Got to get my cards first to be able to buy the darn stuff in. Alas it’s still exciting stuff.

Right I’m off, Downton Abbey after this nonsense. Dame Maggie and Penelope Wilton rock my world. It’s official, I’m 30. When I was 20, I was obsessed with Britney. When I’m 30, I love Downton Abbey. When did this happen?!

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

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