The cake was a recipe taken from the BBC Good Food recipe book and as I find most of those recipes reasonably straightforward, it all went according to plan. So with a relatively smooth day behind me, I thought I'd say a bit about my animals.
The oldest of the bunch is a miserable looking goldfish. His tank only seems to be able to sustain two goldfish at any one time and all was going well until his mate decided to fling himself on top of the filter, dehydrating himself in the process. So the poor old goldfish (C calls him Lily) swims around one his ownsome making me feel terribly guilty on a fairly regular basis.
Next in the hierarchy are 4 chickens inherited from my brother. Also inherited are their daft names - Betty, Carly, Margot and Sally - I prefer to call them all Ken. Until I kept chickens (2 years ago) I thought that there was nothing endearing about them. Obviously I was wrong! They are hilarious when they chase me round the garden begging for scraps of food, running along and waddling from side to side like pregnant women. And nothing beats the feeling of finding (and indeed using) fresh eggs on a daily basis. That's where the problem now lies - they are getting quite old and the older they get, the lazier they get and I'm having to buy my eggs from a friend, who lives down the road. They seem to cotton on to this fact and fearing it may be curtains for them, they'll produce a small clutch just after I've shelled out for my mate's.
I'm going to try and insert a picture now:
That is bad bunny Richard! Awww - he's soooo cute I here you say! Don't be fooled! If you look behind Richard's left ear you can clearly see his '666' birth mark! All the cables in our house now have brightly coloured insulation tape wrapped around them and I'm also in the process of redecorating half the rooms in the house because he's decided to dabble in a little wall paper stripping! Aaaagh!
He's moulting now so everywhere I go there are little mini balls of Richard to be found - enough to make another Richard if any one out there fancies? No? Don't blame you!
Finally there is little squeaky Dinky the guinea pig who will tell you at 2:30 every afternoon that it is in fact celery o' clock! And if you thought that no one could get fat on celery, then you're wrong. Dinky got so big I had to put him on a bit of a diet. The trouble is, he knows that celery comes out of the fridge and he knows the sound the fridge door makes and he knows that if he squeaks for long enough, I'll finally cave in. I've got a lovely picture of Dinky having a bath but it's on my phone and I've got to work out how to put it on here. So I'll publish now and hopefully add on the photo in a bit. Here he is getting ready for a visitor...