I excelled myself on Sunday. I made my Daim Bar cheesecake with a couple of adaptations. Firstly, I used Fox's Crinkle Crunch biscuits as a base (it was a toss up between those and Oreos, but the children would have disowned me forever) and I used about 150ml more 'double cream' in the cheesecake mixture itself. I'd bought Tesco's own brand version of Elmlea, and where I have no issue whisking Elmlea, this stuff increased in volume but was not thickening up! After three years of whisking, I mixed it in to the cheese and folded in the chocolate mixture, refrigerated it and hoped for the best. The result was an almost mousse like texture to the cheesecake mixture, where it's usually very thick and very rich (how we like our men, anyone?). Dan's friend Jonny came round and he said it was really good - 'like one of those fancy desserts you get from Waitrose'. I assume that's a compliment...
My lot are madder than a box of frogs, not that you need me to tell you this. Ways they made me smile over the last few days include...
Unable to quite get over his recent anal probe whilst in hospital. Mr G mused that they may not have even been real Doctors, but actually 'Eastern Bloc sex predators' who had acquired blue tunics from somewhere. You can't make up this stuff up.
Ryan, who has now left Primary school, came home with a picture of his whole class down on the Promenade. And on the reverse... they had to write their favourite memory, or one of their favourite memories of their eight years in YyB. Ok? Seven whole years. And this is the best he can come up with?
Most of you will be needing a translation. So.
'One of my favourite memories is, in Mrs Edwards's class, when I fell and split my pants'.
Wow. Just. Wow. He could have had... winning a medal on Sports Day. He could have had... winning the poetry competition, or coming runner up with his mask design. Performing in numerous school plays, the completely surprise dance routine in their performance of The Lion King. But no. This is my child. And baring his arse to the Infant yard, at the age of five... #schoolcareerhighlight #hisfathersson
Oh. And this too. Attempting to catch up with Hollyoaks, and Reenie McQueen is lying in bed, drunk.
Mr G: Oooooh look! Our bed!
Me: Huh? Oh yeah.
Mr G: Well, almost. Apart from the knobheads.
Me: The... knobheads? I've heard the McQueens called some names in my time but... knobheads?
Mr G: You know, those ball things.
I'm suffering with horrendous Hay Fever, every single morning I'm sneezing, snotting, itching. I could grate the insides of my nostrils. Antihistamine is taking about three hours to work every morning. As a result, my nose is red. And Mr G is finding it highly amusing referring to me as Peter Schmeichel.
|Mine is redder...|
This week's plans are... few and far between at the moment, everything hinging on how Mr G feels. Which is currently like the weather - not great. Ideally, I'd have liked to take my minions to see The Minions Movie today, I even have Burger King vouchers ready for the takeaway they expect afterwards (click here for the latest UK vouchers, valid until 23rd August). And on Sunday, I'd have liked to have gone and watched North Wales Crusaders play Oldham at home in Wrexham. Taken the lads to watch their first (live) rugby league match. It's already looking like camping after the holiday is being scuppered by Mr G's medical appointments in Llandudno (amusingly called 'manometry'. I am going to try and get the phrase 'will it help you 'manometry' up a little?' in somewhere today. He'll swear at me... I'll laugh... Happy days). But, knocking on 10 am, he's still out cold and snoring, so - housework it is. Again. Unhappy days :-(