Not another attempt to smuggle in a trapeze, I hope?
I have cold sossiges soda farls and bbq sauce so I am a well fattened old sun worshiper
Yes the outdoor hammock
I do have a nice peacock blue silk velvet chaise by the range
My trapeze now lives in the garden suspended from a tree branch that overhangs the gin lake…
May I have a small padded cupboard of my very own in a corner somewhere? H&S measure, as everything I touch at the moment Goes Horribly Wrong.
Am just waiting to see what disasters will occur to two nutty seedy loaves for over the road and one white & rye mix for domestic consumption. Place yer bets.
In that case…
[pourity] some Extry Gin for Gus.
Inna shatterproof mug.
And when a sparrer says “shatterproof”, you know it’s been tested.
The mug or the sparrer?
Thank 'ee kindly, Sparrer.
Assuming they are edible and not themselves shatterproof, hot buttered crusts will be yours for first dibs at (halfway through proving, and it looks quite like bread). But you’d better let that Chatelaine have a look-in too, otherwise there is likely to be Trouble and Elbows.
You take the left end, I take the right?
When you say ‘ends’… gawd, I think this is the most lopsided loaf I have ever produced. That’s a half-baked report.
Omnes: in more ways than one, Gus dere
So it’s ready then?
Which brings me to the story of the rather snooty and pernicketty young man who for some reason I forget took a cargo ship home from Furrin Parts, with the arrangement that he would eat with the officers. As he discovered, this meant the captain and the mate. Come the first meal, he was hungry but the food was not up to much, and he complained throughout the first course. However, when the pudding arrived at the table it looked ok, a jam roly-poly with lots of jam, though it had oozed a bit at the ends and gone slightly black. The captain prepared to serve it, and looked at the passenger sharply: “Which d’you want, middle or end?” he asked. Well, the ends might be a bit burnt but the middle looked perfect: “Middle, please,” said the callow youth.
“Me and the mate likes ends,” said the captain, cutting it in half and putting half onto his plate, half onto the mate’s.
Patience, dere Spadger. About 10 mins’ worth.
Right, [slightly wonky] crusts for the snaffling of now available. But be careful, they are hot. We don’t want singed beaks and fingerses, now do we?
\________/ <----Me plate…
We are having chocolate chip cookies made for us by our American guest.
Or singed fins: we don’t want them, either…
[Wishes CCC to materialise like a small, delectable flyiing saucer] [Checks gardn]
Well I would trebuchet you one but they’ve all been Locked Away. until tomorrow
And not in any way because they’d get etten before they made it to the trebuchet.