The weekend began on Friday with me having vile cold and resorting to feeding our visitors potato and leek soup and beer. It seemed to work.
R came in and burrowed through the kitchen, which was excellent, as I didn’t have to tell her where anything was. She then proceeded to bake sourdough bread from sourdough culture from Bendigo via Tasmania! Astounding.
I just danced in and out of the kitchen, while R was busily organising her baking. It was either dance or impale my nostrils on a sharp implement to unblock them.
Meanwhile, Mr H. tried some cat vibrations on the cat that most people love to hate - StOC. And was emphatically ignored.
M washed up the morning after the soup extravaganza, and then made wonder-porridge.
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