Greetings Gentle Readers.

Welcome to another day in the life of me, mine and the feral neighbors.

Today was the kind of day when one wonders why one got out of bed. The morning was taken up with the usual things, such as cleaning, Breakfast for the horde, and then more cleaning.

Young Master Jeffery has a broken bone in his elbow. Of course this has been a great excuse for getting out of such things as washing up. I have been very sympathetic, what with his plaster and bandages and all. I mean, one cannot really expect him to pull his blankets up on his bed, it’s too painful. That is until I walked into his room. There he was, lying down, wrestling with the game pad, using both hands I might add, totally engrossed in Spiro, and then picking up the game consul, with his sore arm, and moving it. Oops! Guess who had to clean his room? It wasn’t me that’s for certain.

I suppose the jig was really up when he went downstairs earlier to pack up the tent. I just didn’t realise it that was all.

Juanita has been trying to fix up her manuscript, and somehow lost 30,000 words. It would appear that the laptop has a black hole and has eaten half of her story. At least that is her reasoning. I mean how else could all those words just disappear?

I have suggested that she take a day off tomorrow, and regroup.

The new ferals across the road have finally finished their party, after three days. They had a merry time of it, interspersed with the occasional fight of course. Like what’s a party without the obligatory domestic argument.

I’m not really interested in their business; it’s just that they seem to like the idea of everybody knowing what they are up to. That must be why they go outside into the street to air their grievances. I must say though, the lady of the house has a simply marvelous left hook, usually followed by a knee to the groin. They do make up for a while, and then start again. It’s almost as if the drinking time interferes with the disputes. Or is it the one dispute that interferes with the drinking. Hmmm…I’ll have to think about that one.

Had a nice Dinner tonight, I cooked up a large quiche Florentine, and served it with Cous-Cous, mixed with sun dried tomatoes, red peppers, and fried onion and garlic. I wasn’t to sure how the kids would react, but after I told them the green bits were herbs; they ate the lot and wanted more. I do suppose it is a sneaky way to get them to eat their spinach, but the way I figure it, all’s fair in the battle of kitchen where it comes to kids.

I have already won the Broccoli Campaign. I par boil it and then deep fry the small rosettes in Tempura batter, Curried of course, and then put small bowls of sweet and sour sauce down for them to dip into. And of course there is the String bean saga; I solved that one by frying them with bacon pieces. The beans that is, not the kids.

After dinner I made up a batch of scones, bush cook style. For those of you who are wondering, bush cooking means that one does not follow a recipe, one merely throws all the ingredients into the bowl, mix well, knead, and hope for the best. It works every time. I make Pancakes the same way.

Maybe I should write a recipe book, but then I very much doubt anyone ever reads recipe books anymore.

I get the feeling that most people have the attitude that if it does not come in box, ready mixed, they cannot be bothered with it. To me, reading a recipe book is something akin to reading the telephone directory. Let’s face it, like the telephone directory; most recipe books have the same recipes in all of them, with slight variations of course. Oh well, back to the drawing board.

Well my friends, it is time for e to go to my bed. The painkillers are just starting to kick in, and I’m getting sleepy. Either that or I’m getting high. It’s got so I don’t know the difference anymore.

So, until next time, May your Gods keep you safe, whoever they are.