A day for putting things right. A day for mending. A wet, dull day. A day for getting things done.
The main reason I was mending and putting things right and also for getting (some) things done was that it was indeed a wet, dull day.
Before lunch I’d made some bread, well made the dough at least, well made the dough in the mixer and then adjusted it by hand. That was the delicate, skilled work. The rest was just grunt work. After lunch I adjourned to the sewing room where three pairs of jeans awaited my attentions. Scamp stayed downstairs and talked to herself while she made a … well, let’s contract it to Boozy Christmas Pudding, it’s got a much longer name than that, but cutting to the chase, that’s it. Once assembled it was to be cooked for three and a half hours in a slow cooker. It looked messy, so I let her get on with it.
First thing for me to do was fix a worn pocket in one pair of jeans. As the next pair would need exactly the same repair done, so ideally I should make all my mistakes on the first pair and then sail through the second. For once, that’s exactly what happened. The first pair was a pain in the backside. Cut the wrong shape of patch. Got in a fankle (another good Scots word) sewing the patch onto the pocket. Eventually got it fixed and it looked and felt ok, so I went down to see how the chef was getting on. She was almost ready to put the assembled pudding in the slow cooker. Got it in without too much trouble which meant she had three and a half hours to sit and wait. I started jeans two’s pocket.
This one was easier and soon I had two useable pairs of jeans that had been malingering in the back bedroom for months. The next pair needed a hem turned up. It was a bit of a struggle to get the sewing machine to accept that it could actually pierce the double, double thickness of denim that would form at the doubled up side seams, but with a bit of a run at it, together we achieved a reasonable result. Like the pockets, once I’d done one leg, the other one was a dawdle. Make that three pairs completed!
We were having Duck Legs with Orange Sauce for dinner. Actually M&S had done the hard work. All I had to do was take the duck legs out of the bag and bake them in the oven I’d just taken the loaf out of, for 30 mins. Covered them in Orange Sauce after that and another ten minutes in the oven saw them cooked. They actually tasted really good. I wondered as I was eating mine if they had both come from the same duck. Were they ‘handed’, you know, left and right legs? I hadn’t thought to look. They both looked about the same size, but how would you know these things? We rarely think that what we’re eating walked this earth with us. Maybe I should go vegan. Nope, chicken curry would put an end to that idea!
The time to open the slow cooker had arrived and Scamp carefully undid the string that held the tinfoil lid in place and the smell that wafted out was simply divine! Boozy? Yes. Fruity? Yes. We got a big slice each and slathered it in cream and discovered that it tasted as good as the smell. The rest is now in the fridge for tomorrow, but I fear it won’t taste as good as today’s offering. Pity, Hazy. It’s got eggs in it.
Spoke to JIC tonight just as I was beginning a swearing session at the Sony for not working with the remote app on my phone. The poor boy wasn’t feeling well with clogged sinuses, and on his weekend off too. That’s just not fair. However we talked for a while about Mr Trump, boilers and stuff.
I went back up to the Photography room (because the sewing machine had been put away again) and proceeded to take today’s PoD manually. Came down stairs and tried again, because I’m like a dug wi’ a burst ba’, and lo and behold the bloody thing worked. I’ve a feeling it’s only doing it to annoy me!
Tomorrow evening we are doing a WhatsApp with a man from British Gas to see how much they want to supply and fit a new boiler. The one we have at present is about 20 years old. We’ll be talking big numbers, I’m sure.