Yay!!! The School of Hard Knocks was closed today due to the apocalyptically atrocious weather. So, there has been time aplenty for loafing on the Cath Kidston bed linen.
And time for admiring my new Alex Monroe necklace. I saved up for it, like a canny wartime housewife. My Dad would be proud of me. I admit that the £140 it cost could have been better served reducing my gargantuan credit card debt. But, at least I haven't added to it. Although I may do so if/ when I buy the ring to match.
And shopping online for the ingredients for my Christmas cake. The recipe book is a splattered as a plasterer's radio. I apologise for that. It is just well-used. The recipe comes from Tamsin Day Lewis's Kitchen Bible. Which is a great book. My FAVOURITE part about Christmas is making my cake. It all goes downhill from there.
Here is a Christmas cake I made a couple of years ago. You will notice I opt for a more naturalistic icing style. I was hoping for a snow-drift effect, but, as I use unrefined icing sugar (which is rather caramel-ly) I expect I actually achieved a melted candle effect. It was a divine cake though. In the month before I iced it I anointed it daily with a tablespoon of Laphroaig. One slice of that cake would render you incapable of driving. Two slices would render you incapable of standing. Three slices would see you on the front cover of the Daily Mail under the headline 'Binge Drinking Britain' after shagging a tramp on a war memorial.
The cat, by the way, is Cecil, my beautiful but aloof Maine Coon kitten (he was just a kitten here). I spent £350 on that twatting creature. When he reached his feline adolescence he decided he didn't want to live with me any more and moved out. I still see him occasionally. He pops through the cat-flap for the odd visit. He clears the larder of tuna and salmon, scowls at me venomously while I try to pet him and then he's off. He's like some stroppy and ungrateful teenager who only comes back for clean bedding and a home-cooked meal.
This is yet another Turner Prize winning composition, I feel. 'Still Live with Maine Coon, Hyacinths and Nick Cave'.
My impromptu snow day also allowed for a lovely long walk with the dogs in the park. I was quite enchanted by this vivid orange tree. The park was a symphony is black and white. The foliage on this tree was glowing like burnished copper. It was simply beautiful.
I apologise to any southern or international visitors, but if you cannot understand the dialogue on the following clips it is because I am speaking in 'Mackem'. I am actually quite posh for a Northern lass really. Well. I tell myself that I am. I, at the very least, manage to refrain from adding the word 'like' to the end of every sentence. Like.