Mornings the Dutchman and the Flipster breakfast together while I lie in bed and count the mountain of wheat-bix vanishing down their gullets. Then I get up and feed the chooks, although recently the Flipster has taken over this task at an award-rate of 50 cents per day . Just as I’m starting to feel like a lady-of-leisure we acquired Boef who also likes to be fed mornings. Demanding.
And now I have to feed a 21 yr old sourdough culture from Bavaria as well.
The responsibility is overwhelming.
We’ve returned from our week in the Grampians with not only the sort of uber-relaxtion achieved after only the best holidays but a rather fabulous haul of stuff, including; olives, wine, wurst, but best of all, ta-da … trumpet call……. a 21 year old sourdough culture!
The icing on the cake is to find waiting on our return a lovely pile of literary sample translations to prepare for the Frankfurt Book Fair for my favourite Dutch publisher! And not to mention the overgrown-jungle of a garden that has sprung up in the week we were away! THAT sort of spring growth I haven’t seen in ten years or more!
More later about everything.