2. Apart from that I was shocked to hear yesterday that Walter from dog borstal is planning to leave me (yes it is all about me). He is going to start a new life in America, bringing his own particular brand of dog borstal whimsy to the masses.
"I wanted to expand here" he told me "but everyone here is stupid".
"Oh? What, everyone?"
I wonder how foie gras on toast for breakfast, dog themed films shown all day for the inhabitants and a pee-for all attitude towards dog excretions in the house will go down stateside. No matter. I am rather saddened for several reasons, mainly because I have long believed Walter to have a soft spot for me. He has a way of standing rather too close and staring myopically at my chest that I have vainly interpreted as such. Whatever it is, it has been a tremendously useful phenomenon, as he is willing to collect and delivery weepette at my convenience. Of course, the alternative explanation is that he pities me. This is more closely borne out by the facts. On his first visit here, this man, whose entire house is filled with incontinent canines and their deposits, took a sharp intake of breath, and putting on his best sympathetic social worker voice, said
"It's hard managing with children, isn't it?"
I should say I was in mid-biscuit frenzy and there may have been a moderate to heavy dusting of flour on most surfaces, and trays of biscuits balanced everywhere. But still. The shame was fairly extreme.
3. Speaking of baking, I am trying to get my shit together to organise the Cruel Tea Vicious Valentines range. Whilst not short of ideas, I am short on competence, and energy and worse still, I appear to have lost my baking mojo. I made the worst cake I have ever made at the weekend. It was a holy disgrace - a leaden, unrisen, burny heap of crap and I still can't work out why. It was the first cake I have made in this oven though, so perhaps we are just having teething issues. I do hope this doesn't extend to biscuits, or I am properly in the shit. Assuming I do manage to assuage the wrath of the oven god, I will be selling biscuits at an undecided location in London from 11-13 February . Um, put the date in your diary. If you are, you know, in London and want burnt biscuits with 'cunt' barely legibly written on them for your beloved. Or someone you hate. Whatever.