Honestly, it's Just Marmalade

The more I tell people I’m about to finish the year of Edmonds the more I begin to feel like I have some sort of awful terminal disease. There seems to be a sort of punishing finality to concluding the project. I happened to take a look at my profile just now. I have just noticed that I managed to put a couple of spelling mistakes in there so one whole sentence makes no sense. I’m sure that’s some kind of meatphor for something. Oooo and I also misspelled metaphor as meatphor – that must mean something too.

I have started to think about life after Edmonds. I may continue to blog, if only to keep the two sociopaths who read it at their computers and away from the rest of normal society.

I probably shouldn’t randomly insult my tiny audience. I apologize tiny audience. You know how people say “My Mother always said if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all”. Well my Mother never said that. However she did used to say “As I was crossing London Bridge I smelt the smell of kippers, I asked a lady what it was she said she’d pissed her knickers”. Naturally that is completely irrelevant and has had no effect on my social skills or ability to interact nicely with others. I hope.

I made carrot marmalade the other day – it was a very pretty colour. Orange of course. Who would have thought – marmalade out of carrots. I was as shocked as the next person. Except there was no next person. Just me. Oh and the Rabbits – where there are carrots there are Rabbits – we peel them straight on to the floor. Some people have cats and dogs that are attuned to the noise of a can opener – my rabbits provide a speedy response to a peeler.

Do I need to tell people that a marmalade has carrots in it before pass it off to people? I’d feel a bit mean, like when I told all the nice people that the marrow filling was pear jam. Then again I can probably live with feeling a bit mean if it gets some preserves off my hands. The place is lousy with jars of things.

I also made (and burnt) a couple of cakes – cherry cake, ladysmith cake, peanut butter loaf… I used to get upset when I burnt baking, now I’m just relieved that I don’t need to find anyone to eat it.

Speaking of getting rid of baking, the men of the office are starting to look a little nervous. There are now so few baking recipes left that I can count on one hand. Incase you were wondering, despite a rich tapestry of inbreeding in my family I am blessed with no missing or extra digits. It’s going to be interesting to see what happens when they get hungry, I’m thinking it could be like “Alive” without the plane or the Andes.