Vast Quantities of Bread
I am finding myself with less and less to write about. Whilst being tortured by a fiendishly painful foot is not much fun it does provide a break from the routine and a whole bunch of stuff to write about. Unfortunately...that's another one I use all the time...my life has settled into a routine and it has become less easy to find things to write about.
The most exciting thing at the moment is that Henry has almost permanently taken up residence on my bed and spends most of his time snoring at me. I find myself interested in the most uninteresting things, why does Henry cough every time I lift him down from the bed, where is the most optimal place to put my phone so I always know where it is. How to organise my bedside trolley in the most efficient manner.
More disturbingly most of my days are now spent actually working, either trying to fix things or ...mostly...endlessly talking to people on the phone trying to get them to fix things. The point is that none of this is stuff that you want to hear about..to be fair it's not stuff that I want to write about so I haven't been.
Well today has been no different, nothing of note has happened whatsoever apart from me making some granary bread. There is an issue with me eating bread, and that is that I resemble the Good Year blimp that has become untethered and come to rest on a bed and therefore I should not be eating vast quantities of bread. I'm also diabetic...basically I'm falling apart...Oh Lord, Helen is offering me organic beef burger now...I'm going to end up the size of a large bungalow...mmm organic beef burger...I've been almost completely vegetarian for the last month in desperate attempt to get the numbers down and she offers me beef burger...no, of course I didn't resist. It was very nice thank you very much, oddly, I had it with risotto.
A friend from work is coming round tomorrow to bring my new laptop...thank fuck, it's only been six months or so since I asked about it...and I offered him breakfast since he is going to be here at 7am. He immediately asked if I had any sourdough...I don't, I haven't been able to make any bread for at least a month, and I'm not supposed to be eating it. In January, before the NHS took me in hand, I had purchased a load of organic bread flour including some granary flour to try out. It has been sitting there waiting for me to do something with it and I have been steadfastly not making...or eating bread...it was time to fall off the wagon.
I am still attached to Horris...the plaster cast, keep up...I have not suddenly risen and taken up my bed and walked. Oh no...this has to be accomplished in a lunch hour as I am actually at work, and either on a pair of crutches or from the trusty office chair. The most difficult thing was getting the mixing bowl, it was on the far side of the kitchen through a gap that the chair could not negotiate so it had to be the crutches. The downside to crutches is that, unless you are a three armed mutant, you have no free hands to carry anything. So, swing my way through the gap, past the table and then dispense with one crutch and grab the bowl and put it on the table amongst the card boot sale detritus. Get back on the crutches and swing past the table and stop again, move the bowl to a chair, back on the crutches past the chair, stop, move the bowl to the sofa...jeez this is hard work...back through the gap and onto the office chair managing to drop both crutches on my foot in the process...ouch, buggery, fuck...get annoyed with the crutches and throw them out into the hallway in a temper. Now I can finally get the mixing bowl and put it on the side.
The next part goes quite smoothly, measuring out flour, water, yeast was a mere bagatelle...not quite sure what that is, but it is mere which means not a lot so that's good. I have been on a bread making course with a famous French baker and I always follow his measurements for bread. I did so this time and mixed everything in the bowl and scooped it out onto the worktop, and at this point things started to go slightly wrong. You really need to be standing up to knead bread and I was in a office chair with my chin just above the level of the worktop. I tried standing on one foot but swinging the dough around as I am wont to do was making me very off balance and a couple of times I nearly threw the dough into the washing up bowl. Eventually I settled on kneeling...not often you get two words starting with 'kne' in the same paragraph if you ask me...on the office chair which displeased Horris somewhat but 'Hey Ho'.
Then it turns out that I've used too much water and the dough is a trifle sticky, it was tending to fly off in all directions, twice, I managed to get it in my own eyebrows. I needed more flour...arse biscuits, the flour's in a tub in the hall...and my hands were covered in what amounted to a gluten based super glue which was now attaching itself to everything I touched. I scraped all I could off my hand and wheeled into the hall with a glass measuring jug which was quickly becoming welded to my fingers. A veil will be drawn over the next few minutes as I tried to extract flour from the tub and not stick myself to the chair, the tub and possibly the dog who had wandered up thinking there might be food. Eventually after much swearing I managed to get back into the kitchen and add more flour.
The universe by now had decided that I must have had enough as everything magically came together and in no time at all I had a perfect lump of dough nestling in the mixing bowl and resting for the required hour. Luckily for me no more shenanigans were forthcoming as I had to quickly wash the hands and get back to work.
And...and..no really...help I don't know how to stop...and, the loaf of bread turned out rather wonderfully, which is not good for me as I will now be unable to stop myself gorging.
Still all in all it gave me something to write about, so all's well that ends well...what the fuck does that actually mean...all is not well, I have a Horris that refuses to leave, Henry has a wart that refuses to leave, Helen has a bad ankle... I could go on, but I'm starting to bore myself.
Night night
Charlie
The most exciting thing at the moment is that Henry has almost permanently taken up residence on my bed and spends most of his time snoring at me. I find myself interested in the most uninteresting things, why does Henry cough every time I lift him down from the bed, where is the most optimal place to put my phone so I always know where it is. How to organise my bedside trolley in the most efficient manner.
More disturbingly most of my days are now spent actually working, either trying to fix things or ...mostly...endlessly talking to people on the phone trying to get them to fix things. The point is that none of this is stuff that you want to hear about..to be fair it's not stuff that I want to write about so I haven't been.
Well today has been no different, nothing of note has happened whatsoever apart from me making some granary bread. There is an issue with me eating bread, and that is that I resemble the Good Year blimp that has become untethered and come to rest on a bed and therefore I should not be eating vast quantities of bread. I'm also diabetic...basically I'm falling apart...Oh Lord, Helen is offering me organic beef burger now...I'm going to end up the size of a large bungalow...mmm organic beef burger...I've been almost completely vegetarian for the last month in desperate attempt to get the numbers down and she offers me beef burger...no, of course I didn't resist. It was very nice thank you very much, oddly, I had it with risotto.
A friend from work is coming round tomorrow to bring my new laptop...thank fuck, it's only been six months or so since I asked about it...and I offered him breakfast since he is going to be here at 7am. He immediately asked if I had any sourdough...I don't, I haven't been able to make any bread for at least a month, and I'm not supposed to be eating it. In January, before the NHS took me in hand, I had purchased a load of organic bread flour including some granary flour to try out. It has been sitting there waiting for me to do something with it and I have been steadfastly not making...or eating bread...it was time to fall off the wagon.
I am still attached to Horris...the plaster cast, keep up...I have not suddenly risen and taken up my bed and walked. Oh no...this has to be accomplished in a lunch hour as I am actually at work, and either on a pair of crutches or from the trusty office chair. The most difficult thing was getting the mixing bowl, it was on the far side of the kitchen through a gap that the chair could not negotiate so it had to be the crutches. The downside to crutches is that, unless you are a three armed mutant, you have no free hands to carry anything. So, swing my way through the gap, past the table and then dispense with one crutch and grab the bowl and put it on the table amongst the card boot sale detritus. Get back on the crutches and swing past the table and stop again, move the bowl to a chair, back on the crutches past the chair, stop, move the bowl to the sofa...jeez this is hard work...back through the gap and onto the office chair managing to drop both crutches on my foot in the process...ouch, buggery, fuck...get annoyed with the crutches and throw them out into the hallway in a temper. Now I can finally get the mixing bowl and put it on the side.
The next part goes quite smoothly, measuring out flour, water, yeast was a mere bagatelle...not quite sure what that is, but it is mere which means not a lot so that's good. I have been on a bread making course with a famous French baker and I always follow his measurements for bread. I did so this time and mixed everything in the bowl and scooped it out onto the worktop, and at this point things started to go slightly wrong. You really need to be standing up to knead bread and I was in a office chair with my chin just above the level of the worktop. I tried standing on one foot but swinging the dough around as I am wont to do was making me very off balance and a couple of times I nearly threw the dough into the washing up bowl. Eventually I settled on kneeling...not often you get two words starting with 'kne' in the same paragraph if you ask me...on the office chair which displeased Horris somewhat but 'Hey Ho'.
Then it turns out that I've used too much water and the dough is a trifle sticky, it was tending to fly off in all directions, twice, I managed to get it in my own eyebrows. I needed more flour...arse biscuits, the flour's in a tub in the hall...and my hands were covered in what amounted to a gluten based super glue which was now attaching itself to everything I touched. I scraped all I could off my hand and wheeled into the hall with a glass measuring jug which was quickly becoming welded to my fingers. A veil will be drawn over the next few minutes as I tried to extract flour from the tub and not stick myself to the chair, the tub and possibly the dog who had wandered up thinking there might be food. Eventually after much swearing I managed to get back into the kitchen and add more flour.
The universe by now had decided that I must have had enough as everything magically came together and in no time at all I had a perfect lump of dough nestling in the mixing bowl and resting for the required hour. Luckily for me no more shenanigans were forthcoming as I had to quickly wash the hands and get back to work.
And...and..no really...help I don't know how to stop...and, the loaf of bread turned out rather wonderfully, which is not good for me as I will now be unable to stop myself gorging.
Still all in all it gave me something to write about, so all's well that ends well...what the fuck does that actually mean...all is not well, I have a Horris that refuses to leave, Henry has a wart that refuses to leave, Helen has a bad ankle... I could go on, but I'm starting to bore myself.
Night night
Charlie
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