That’s the trouble with being out in the sticks. People expecting you to be able to bake.
So I made them a dish for the Autumn Fayre. Apart from the cooking apples as the filling, I made the pastry by pouring water onto flour. At a ratio of 22 over 7.
I don’t know what sort of dish other people would say it was. But I call it an approximation of pie.
The existence of the Women Bishops Steering Committee has come to my attention.
I reckon it’s hard enough becoming a woman bishop as it is (emigration to New Zealand being required, apparently. And then you’ve got that whole “fighting with orcs” business to deal with). But then, after all that, having some committee steering you?
How many times do we have to say this? That whole “women have no sense of direction” thing is a rubbish stereotype. Women bishops don’t need a committee to steer them.
Not least because, assuming there were any men on the committee, they’d all be arguing about which direction they ought to be steering anyway.
I’ve heard some fairly shocking news, which may be publicly confirmed if it goes through.
Apparently Man Utd are fed up with all that to-ing and fro-ing, repeated rejections and faffing about. So they’re going to simplify things.
They’ve just put in a bid for Everton.
The Victorias and the Katja apples are just starting to ripen now. Makes me all nostalgic.
Takes me back to when I got a new, exciting post as Head of Greengage Management at a major fruit-packing company. I thought it was a plum job at the time. But it turned out not to be that big a role. In the end I had to hand in my notice. It was giving me the pip.