MY favourite time of year is here – the season of the pancake.
Traditionally, it is meant to be one day and one day only, Shrove Tuesday, but I like to take a pragmatic approach to traditions and mould them to suit my own wishes.
Which means one day is just not long enough to pay tribute to this most delicious pudding.
My pancake season began on Monday, when I filmed my boss making them with the lovely Year Four kids at Grindon Hall Christian School.
I managed to sneak quite a bit from the spoils while remaining dignified enough to share at least some with the children ...
That night though, I got a proper feast going on. Using my trusty Be-Ro book I made a big bowl of batter just in time for my boyfriend arriving at the front door with a brand new non-stick pan.
His job was to make them and flip them while I was in charge of dousing them with sugar and lemon and shoving them in my cake hole.
Funnily enough, we both did very well in our respective roles before collapsing on the sofa and groaning because our tums were so full of that sweet homemade pancake goodness.
But I’m not stopping there. I’ve got the ingredients for many, many more, so I’m going to keep on having them as a little treat in the weeks to come.
However, I am aware that this goes against the whole point of Lent, when you are meant to be giving up delicious things, not having more of them.
So I’ve been scraping around trying to think of something I can realistically stop doing for 40 days that will benefit the world in some small way.
The shortlist is as follows: I will stop being a pain in the bottom when my boyfriend suggests something sensible, just because I didn’t think of it first; I will stop impulse buying chocolate bars out of vending machines the minute I am slightly under pressure at work or as an avoidance tactic for writing articles I don’t want to write: I will stop ignoring important DIY maintenance jobs in my home that are gradually turning my flat into a deathtrap.
I’ll let you know how it goes ...
IT’S too early to say, but we may have another convert to the world of horses.
My boyfriend and I went trekking at the weekend and he took to it very well.
Trundling about on a lovely neddy called Sally Ann, he looked right at home.
The only slight problem was the look of discomfort on his face when we were trotting.
I think things were getting a bit smashed about down there, but I have assured him that more supportive underwear and a few lessons in how to sit on a horse will soon put this right.
It reminded me of when I was 10 and there was a boy called James in our lesson who always had the misfortune of landing awkwardly on his misters while tackling showjumps.
Needless to say, me and the other girls in the lesson found this a bit too funny.
Anyhow, the point is, if my boyfriend sticks with it we’re looking at a happy future of buying matching his n’ hers jodpurs on eBay.