A grey day, brightened only by the red rambling rose scrambling over the fence. The much needed rain has finally arrived. Time to find a favourite book.
Somewhere in the freezer, last summer's gooseberries.
Deep in the depths of a store cupboard, rather old jam sugar, solidified into blocks.
Some gentle rolling.
Looking alarmingly like a pan full of small frogs.
At last, after much boiling, it comes together. Somewhat runny, but with a tart sweetness.
Lumpy, bumpy rolls, soft and floury.
Breakfast.
