LIVING IN LIMBO

In the absence of my son I decided to get a large part of the baking done for the first part of next week, it was to became an all day marathon with numerous interruptions and much giggling.

My son left early this morning and his departure was not without incident. The taxi, booked to arrive at nine forty five was, of course late, now the only thing my wonderful son does not do well is wait. I was about to call the cab company when we received an agitated call from the driver, demanding to know our post code
, I of course complied only to be told that the post code I had given did not exist. I pointed out that I had been living at my current address for some years and had not until he mentioned it realised that I was living in limbo. This piece of sarcasm was utterly wasted on the driver who was, as I suspected suffering from an acute case of dippy sat nav, a nasty complaint to be sure. I gave the benighted individual minute directions and waited.................................ten minutes later I was again informed that my home did not exist. On looking through the window I observed a large white car parked in the lane and asked my son to pop out to see if it was our long awaited cab,it was. The driver then asked me in an aggrieved tone if I was aware that my address was apparently in a completely different street at the other end of the village.
He must have driven past the house several times and the name and number of our dwelling is writ large upon the gate, and while I am aware that our road is a little obscure I do expect a cab driver from a company who,s office is about half a mile away to know the immediate area area. He departed still insisting that my house did not exist and that I had wasted half an hour of his time, my parting advice to him was that he should switch off his sat nav and buy an A-Z, this went down very ill indeed and he departed with his feathers much ruffled!

Pa and I ate a leisurely breakfast after which I set about the baking, to begin with a large rich fruit cake, a dummy run for the Christmas cake I shall make next week, rather later than usual. While it cooked I riffled through recipe books looking for the recipe for biscuits called Cornish Fairings, it took ages as I have lots of recipe books, at last, success. Fairings are exactly that, a small spiced biscuit sold at fairs from mediaeval times up to the present day,. They are quite a crunchy cookie designed to be carried home from the fair as a treat for children , girl friend, or perhaps a mother, a softer crumbly biscuit would break so these were popular. They also keep for ages and are nice even if they go a little soft, I made eight dozen.
As the first batch left the oven my neighbour arrived...nice timing eh, quite a few vanished with several cups of tea. We sat about swapping gossip and giggling like school girls as we traded sat nav stories for over an hour. All this time I was loading and unloading the oven and by now the table was full and the kitchen smelled wonderful. At about three our friend departed stuffed to the gills, leaving me with aching sides, he is so funny.

Cleaning up the kitchen took ages and finally at six thirty Pa and I sat down to a quick meal of bacon, eggs, cheese and baked beans, it was all I had the energy to cook. It is now my intention to have a long hot bath. At the time of going to press, so to speak I have not heard from the wandering dungeoneer so I expect he and his comrades in arms are having a good time slaughtering each other, the things people do for fun!