Eating toast, suppertime toast, with a choice of
toppings. Butter, I reach for, and uncap the whiskey marmalade. I have a wide
bladed knife in hand. The butter is room temperature, the Rayburn has been lit
all day. The bread had staled but a stint in the toaster makes it fine.
From rising late, the day has yawned, stretched as far
as walking in the park. The house has a scent of wood dust, as Mr has a new
shelf in progress, and a scattered mess of chewed cardboard, as Baby had a
grand game with Dog, before being transferred to her travel cot, where she
sleeps now, huddled by old teddy bears.
Downstairs, full of supper, her Grandparents get a
wine buzz going.
[Some Credits:
Whiskey Marmalade, made by Mrs Naylor (mother of two
junior Black Belts)
Choice of toppings included Turkey Liver Pâté by Mrs
Philpotts (mother of a future Black Belt)
Baby, raised by Girl
Choice of wine with thanks to students, parents of
students and family]
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