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An Empty Milk Bottle

Updated: May 10, 2020

13th August, 2018

Right. I'm about to delve right into a First World Problem. But, as Jennifer Fulwiler says, we do live in the First of inevitable.

I did finally make some flapjack today. But it was an emergency measure against domestic disaster rather than the beginnings of the baking adventures I've been trying to embark on. I knew the day was not going to go 'swimmingly' when Isaac woke, on and off, between 4 and 5.45am today, as he is wont to do, and just when I'd drifted back to sleep Gracie pinged awake. I'd been feeling fairly hungry for a while (as you get when you have a nursling) and I'd been thinking to myself that if I could just get downstairs and get a big bowl of Alpen (nice and sugary), and crawl back to bed with a cup of tea, whilst sticking on Clifford's Puppy Days (Gracie's flavour of the month), then I could try and start the day again. What happened, in reality, is that I went downstairs to find a cup of tea (great:)) And an empty milk bottle looking up at me from the sink. Oh no, I thought, heart truly sinking. Maybe there's another one on the step. I'm sure I could remember certain Mondays where the milkman would drop one off, even though we only have deliveries Wednesday and Friday. But the sad truth is that I knew, deep inside, that this would not the reality. We were out of milk.

The hunger and tiredness mixed with an inner panic and so I found myself deciding to put in a couple of pieces of bread to toast and bake some flapjack. Butter? Tick. Golden syrup? Tick. Oats? Tick. Clifford's Puppy Days​? Tick. Half an hour later I had some very badly baked, half burned, half liquid , not-at-al-stuck-together, flapjack. But oh, it was homemade. 

And on a brighter note, I got my new digital baking scales later on today. Or rather, I returned the ones I bought last Friday and exchanged them. I don't know why, but when I got them home last Friday, even though they were the ones which the lovely lady in the shop recommended, I just didn't feel excited about them. I tried to, I did.  But it became clear to me over the weekend that I just needed the one with the bowl. Otherwise I would never get round to buying a bowl and we'd be back at Square One in the baking department.

So, my mission today? Baking my own bread. I have attached a photo of today's flapjack, so you can surmise for yourselves what that will probably look like for the Lomas family here. 

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