Oh S…ugar

Oh S…ugar

Anyone who knows me, knows that all is well on good ship Thrifty-pop when I’m busy baking, alas I haven’t been much up to baking of late and who wants to eat the baked produce of someone who sounds like they’ve coughed up a lung spleen ovary, something lower, something lower…knee? I’ve had a few bursts of energy which have resulted in thrifting trips and slow strolls but after a few hours out and about I’m pretty much rendered bed-bound for the next few days.Today however I felt that urge, the urge to take wooden spoon in hand, the urge to bake. I decided to bake something with minimal fuss – namely scones.

I methodically laid out and measured the ingredients which I know by heart. I was half way through adding the butter when Mr Thrifty came home with some (v important) work based news and before I knew it I’d added the eggs and the milk and found myself rolling out and cutting the rounds whilst working out the implications of the news. I popped them in the oven and set about washing up the bowls and spoons before finding the little dish containing the sugar which I’d forgotten to add. “Oh sugar!” wasn’t what I shouted however two minutes later, as we slathered them, fresh from the oven, with added the extras of butter and jam we realised that the missing sugar wasn’t all that bad.I’m still missing my sugar too, I don’t quite have that pop I once did but I’m getting there slowly but surely. With a few added extras of drugs, hot water bottles and plenty of rest I’m almost as good as normal. I’m getting there, I’m getting there.

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