Whoopie Sunday

As a blog reader, my favourite blog posts are those 'I've nothing to say, so here is a little rundown of what I've done recently' ones.  When done by proper bloggers they have neat paragraphs accompanied by gorgeous photographs in soft colours, taken using clever Nikon things and knowledge of words like "macro" and "exposure".  The photos depict delicious tidbits served on charmingly mismatched vintage crockery, or close-up shots of shopping bags with swatches of fabric peeping out as a taster before an outfit post, or piles of hardback books artistically placed next to an empty teacup and three artistic biscuit crumbs.  They're never blurry or with a finger over the lens and there's never any clutter or grime in the background.  Heavenly.

I, on the other hand, offer you this crock of shit as a 'Here's what I did this weekend' blog post!  Enjoy!

Just over a month ago I wrote this tweet:

"Dear world, I am sick of wearing tights and boots, so it is therefore Spring from now on. Please act accordingly."

Well it looks like I got my wish!  As you probably noticed, unless you had the misfortune to be working nights last week, or unless you spent the weekend holed up in your bedroom playing internet role-playing games about trolls and not washing, yesterday was not just 'Spring-like' or 'summery' but BLAZING HOT.  I started the day with a swim (and that healthy, sunny morning image is a bit of a bluff, because I actually didn't roll out of bed until almost eleven, and then I pouted and grumbled my way into my swimming costume and out of the house because I wanted to sit in my pyjamas and play on Facebook...)  and here is a letter I composed while I was grumpily swimming:

"An open letter to all troglodytic* idiots who frequent East End Pool;

(*Yeah, I know I’m going a bit overboard with the word troglodyte recently but, you see, I live near Byker so I encounter a lot of socially-challenged cavemen.)

Dear idiots,

East End Pool is not a low-rent dating agency.  If you want to pick up a strumpet, go to the Biggmarket.  The girls there are younger than me, drunker than me and probably wearing garments much smaller than my swimsuit.

Sod off,

Bette

And then I came home and got over myself, and then I sat on my bed with the windows open and did some worky things, and then I went out to try to find an open charity shop to which to bequeath a bag of my discarded junk. (Failed, but the heavy bag and I had a nice long walk in the sun!)

This next anecdote didn't actually take place on Sunday, but whatever.  Here's a pic of my latest bit of interior decorating, which earned me the comment from Simon: "Well. You've obviously got too much time on your hands."  Fair point I suppose, but I felt it was a little bit rich, coming from Teachy McBoring himself...!

Rainbow books!!  To protect your eyes from crap photography, edited in Pixlr by my own fair mouse-clicking fingers.  I had been inspired by pictures like this:

(Please overlook how this one is infinitely better than my amateurish effort)

Anyway, the next event of Sunday was that me and Simon made whoopie pies from the Hummingbird Bakery cookbook.  You know, whoopie pies, those neat, flat little cakes sandwiched together with gooey stuff, the latest craze from America and now being sold in the very chicest London patisseries.  These things   ----->

Simon was measuring out ingredients with German precision and I was skipping around the kitchen with excitement.

SIMON:  Can't you go away?

BETTE:  No!  I'm helping!

SIMON:  ...Must you be helping?

(This toast post is turning into The Chronicles of Simon Being Mean To Me.  Memo to Simon: be nicer!)

Anyway, following the recipe to the letter (TO DAS LETTER, JA!), the whoopie mixture began to form.

These were banoffee whoopie pies, by the way.

At this point, let me introduce you to these two miscreants:

Combine these, chuck in some icing sugar, add enough butter to sink a ship, and there you have the whoopie pie filling.  Diabetes on a plate, anyone?

SIMON:  Hurry up and take the picture!

BETTE:  Hold on, I'm trying to find the right camera setting...

SIMON:  Have you not got a 'gloop' setting?!

(I must be remembering the series of events wrongly because those are clearly my arms, but the general wittiness still applies.)

Finally, they were ready and, er, they didn't turn out quite like the dainty little snackettes in the Hummingbird picture above...

You could build a house out of these things.  You need two hands to lift them, and biting into one is like eating a burger.  Let me tell you, a burger made of cake might sound like bliss, but when it involves a whole jar of Marshmallow Fluff, you need a seriously strong stomach!

Didn't stop us from eating 5 between us in two days, though.

Burp.