As promised, here is a tale about my recent attempts at breadmaking..............
Why did I decide to have a go?
FIRSTLY.................
Home baked bread is healthier; you know what has gone into each loaf if you make it yourself.
SECONDLY..............
Baking bread is supposed to be therapeutic.
All that pummelling and "knocking down" can be directed to any of our enemies or detractors we may choose, if only in our imagination.
THIRDLY...............
Breadmaking skills could be useful if we have another Winter like last year. I will not have to resort to those batons of glorified fluff that masquerade as "partly baked loaves."
It will also be something different for my neighbour, Tracy, to try.
(You may remember that Tracy thinks my pantry is her very own corner shop. She "pops in" whenever she runs out of food!)
But...........FOURTHLY, and most importantly................
The Bread Mix was on offer at Sainsbury's!
(Did I mention, I'm a bit of a tight-wad?)
**************
As some of you may know, I live alone.
Not that I mind.
Sometimes, I can go 4 or 5 days and never see or speak to another living soul.
Unless, that is..........I decide to do something useful.
Perhaps I want to undertake a project where I don't wish to be disturbed. At such times, it seems I am plagued with all sorts of characters trying to disrupt my attempts at doing something useful.
***************
Last Wednesday, I'd decided to try out the Bread Mix. It was such a day.
I'd barely put on my pinny, before there was a knock at the door.
I sighed......................
I opened the door................
"Whaddya want?" I asked gruffly..........
"Five quid. I've just cleaned your upstairs windows.
You sound a bit harassed, missus. Is everything alright?"
"Sorry about that, Spidey. I'm just starting to make a loaf of bread. I didn't mean to lose me temper." I said, giving him a fiver.
"Wow! Clever old you," he said. "There's nothing like home made fresh bread."
Blinded by his flattery, I said, "Come back at 3 o'clock. I'll make a cuppa and you can try some."
"Thanks, I will," he said, and quickly scaled the wall to his next customer.
I went back to the kitchen.
Just as I finished getting everything out of the cupboard, there was another knock on the door.
I wiped my hands and went into the hall.
I peeped through my little spyhole.
Now, I could have pretended that I was out.
But, I opened the door as I was brought up to be polite.
(And anyway, she'd already seen the flash of my pinny through the glass in the door!)
"Yes?" I asked.
"Do you ever worry about the state of the world?" she asked, thrusting a magazine under my nose.
"Yes, I do worry about it sometimes. Unfortunately, I can't discuss it with you right now. I'm in the middle of making some bread."
"Making some bread?" she asked, excitedly. She was now dribbling and continued,
"There's nothing like home made fresh bread. I bet it will be scrummy"
She stood there.................
................staring at me.............
................expectantly.............
"I tell you what," I said, "Pop back at 3 o'clock. I'll let you try some."
She left, skipping along the garden path.
As I went back to the kitchen and started mixing and pummelling, it suddenly dawned on me that I may not have enough butter for my two guests.
I looked out of the window to see if the milkman was still in the street.
Yep, he was still there.
"Aye up Ernie!" I shouted waving my arms about. "Can I have some best butter?"
"Best butter?" he asked with disbelief in his voice. "You're pushing the boat out, aren't you. Have you gone off Sainbury's basic buy soft spread then, or have you won the Lottery?"
"Neither." I said, "I'm making some home made bread and I've got company coming later to try it."
Ernie passed me the butter.
"Fancy that!" he said. "You. Actually baking, ha ha ha!"
Ignoring his cheeky remarks, I asked
"Why don't you come back at 3 o'clock and join us?"
"Thanks, missus, I will," he said. " After all, there's nothing like home made fresh bread!"
**************
Crikey, this was almost turning into a party.
After mixing it, kneading it, letting it rise, and then doing it all again - I put the loaf in the oven.
Just as my kitchen timer went "ping", someone was ringing a bell out in the street.............
.................and shouting...................
"Any old rags! Any old rags!"
It was the rag and bone man.
He jumped down off his horse, and walked down the side of my house to the open back door.
"Hello, luv. Got any old rags?" he asked, looking at my clothes hanging on the washing line.
"No, sorry. I haven't." I said.
He looked at all the Primark and charity shop clothes on the line again.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
I nodded. He threw back his head and sniffed.
"What's that smell?" he asked.
"That'll be the horse poo on your wellies," I said, pointing downwards.
"Not THAT smell!" he tutted. "The smell coming from your oven."
"Oh, I've made some bread this afternoon." I told him.
"Really?" he stared at me, hopefully.
"OK, leave your wellie boots out there and go upstairs and wash your hands. You can stay and try some if you like." I said.
"Thanks, I will," he said. "There's nothing like home made fresh bread!"
Off he went and within the next few minutes, my other guests arrived.
Spidey, the window cleaner
Mrs Jehovah's Witness
and Ernie the milkman.
I sliced the bread, buttered it and passed it around.
We all took a great big bite...................
What was the verdict?
....................
.........................
...............well...................
................after we'd tasted it...................
...............we were all agreed................
................it was absolutely................
...........NOTHING LIKE HOME MADE FRESH BREAD!.................
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Don't forget to pop back!
