Maxing up

 My cooking is erratic. Always has been. Strange that whilst I'm occasionally good, its the bad that stick in the memory. We still talk of the night in 1973 when I served a paella to some 20 people with ice in the middle of the chicken... no one died.

Last night I got the fish pie horribly wrong; burnt on the bottom and with a slightly fishy sludge on top. Alecia had the great good grace to blame the oven in this house (I'm living in the studio house in the absence of the Captain) and that was a contributing factor certainly.

 I hope all are well today - Max and Andrea, Debs and Gary, Dick and Jude.
Thankfully - and I am really thankful - Andrea bought a salad with a special dressing with pistachios and strawberries and cream and chocolate. Otherwise we'd have had to have gone out to T Rex:)

I tided the accounts out of the study so we could sit there and now find I have only today left to finish them in.

An artists life is far from easy