Only a brief post on this bitingly cold day. Just to say that today, I fell off the wagon. It’s all Gail’s fault. She was coming round. We were going to hatch a plot. Then she cancelled. I did my walk, then settled down to work, the final push quality checking a big document. Lit the woodburner. But I could feel those wintry icicles outside and and I neede warmth. I needed comfort. Oh well, I thought, I was going to make some scones for Gail anyway. I’ll make them and David can take them to work tomorrow. So out with the flour and the butter and the eggs. As they cooked the house filled with a heavenly buttery warm-cake smell.
Hardly were they out of the oven than I had eaten one, all crumbly and moist and fragrant. Steaming it was. Plus a large mug of tea.
In penance I took some round to Jas and Dick next door, with a jar of black currant jam.
I cannot tell a lie. I fell off the wagon. I only ate one. But it was all Gail’s fault.