…do all horrible things have to come at once?
Having enjoyed our pork pie lunch – no, not forgotten, and pics are waiting to be downloaded from the camera the minute I can get the lead back from my husband – I had a call from Mum telling me Granny had fallen and knocked herself for six. Actually, from the sounds of it, she managed to knock herself clear over the grandstand and into the streets beyond.
So, one hurried day trip to Gloucestershire yesterday to see her, and now we wait and pray to see how things develop.
After the emotions of the day, I was rather looking forward to getting into the kitchen and putting together the week’s starting order for Kash – baking therapy – but it was not to be. Somewhere near the end of the brownies’ cooking time, the heating element in my oven died, and further baking became impossible. Cue frantic phone calls to every supplier in London this morning to find a replacement, only to be forced to admit defeat and have to order one on an overnight to get here tomorrow.
I feel bad for Kash, and I feel doubly bad for Granny, for whom I was going to bake some flapjacks and stick them in the post along with a picture Harvey drew to cheer her up.
My friend, however, did find a silver lining, cheering me with the thought that the heating element could have given up, instead, the day I needed to bake Harvey’s birthday cake. She’s right, of course, but I apparently went a funny shade of green at the prospect.
So here, in so many ways, is to a quiet and uneventful week.