I know what I am. What am I?
Aug. 1st, 2010 11:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceEveryone knows about the night sweats, the lying awake at four in the morning in utter despair.
It is no news that for some of us this rolls over into the daylight hours also.
Today? May have been the first time I have stood in a supermarket queue, shopping done; reached the front of the queue yet, been next in line; and then quietly put my basket down and walked out because I simply could not bear another moment.
I like shopping, damn it...
No matter. Let's not dwell.
My grandad was a bank clerk all his working life, once he had put the first world war behind him (Williams & Deacon's bank, later Williams & Glynn's); my father was a cost-and-works accountant (Morris's first - yes, William Morris, cars'n'such, the Cowley works - and then Minty Furnishings). I have said all my life I should have been a merchant banker. It's an obvious progression, and I always did like numbers.
Today I realise that's a typo. Not a banker: I should have been a baker. Artisanal, natch. Handling dough always makes me feel better.
Here's this day's bake:
Actually this has become my standard loaf: a mix of white, wholemeal and rye flours, proved in a basket overnight and baked open on a hot tray. As usual, I am falling into a routine; I should experiment more. But I really like this, I could just eat it and eat it.
In other news, I am trying to remember I'm a novelist. Trying to write a synopsis. Three synopses: GINGERSMITH, PEPPERMAGE and SALTMASTER. As usual, they start vague and only get vaguer. And shorter. If I were allowed, I would offer just two words for SALTMASTER, and one of those would be "book". I expect my agents will want more than that, though.
*sighs*
*listens to cricket*
It is no news that for some of us this rolls over into the daylight hours also.
Today? May have been the first time I have stood in a supermarket queue, shopping done; reached the front of the queue yet, been next in line; and then quietly put my basket down and walked out because I simply could not bear another moment.
I like shopping, damn it...
No matter. Let's not dwell.
My grandad was a bank clerk all his working life, once he had put the first world war behind him (Williams & Deacon's bank, later Williams & Glynn's); my father was a cost-and-works accountant (Morris's first - yes, William Morris, cars'n'such, the Cowley works - and then Minty Furnishings). I have said all my life I should have been a merchant banker. It's an obvious progression, and I always did like numbers.
Today I realise that's a typo. Not a banker: I should have been a baker. Artisanal, natch. Handling dough always makes me feel better.
Here's this day's bake:
Actually this has become my standard loaf: a mix of white, wholemeal and rye flours, proved in a basket overnight and baked open on a hot tray. As usual, I am falling into a routine; I should experiment more. But I really like this, I could just eat it and eat it.
In other news, I am trying to remember I'm a novelist. Trying to write a synopsis. Three synopses: GINGERSMITH, PEPPERMAGE and SALTMASTER. As usual, they start vague and only get vaguer. And shorter. If I were allowed, I would offer just two words for SALTMASTER, and one of those would be "book". I expect my agents will want more than that, though.
*sighs*
*listens to cricket*