In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made with al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.
I’m just a bit fed up. I’m desperately trying to complete my Self Assessment form online only to be kicked off the site and told to log in again. Simple enough. Except that somehow two minutes later, my password is no longer correct. After several tries, I gave up and requested a new password to be sent to my email address.
And both times, the new passwords didn’t work.
Apparently I’m not the other one. Another Twitter friend is having the same problem.
So, I’ll take the opportunity to blog about today’s progress. We woke at around 9. By around 9:30, I did what any respectable parent would do and yelled for the more grown up children to come take the almost 3 year old Seventh Wonder child down for breakfast. As usual, this resulted with around three teenagers taking camp on my bed. It took me around half an hour of threats, tears and tussles to finally persuade them to do what I asked them originally.
It was around 10:15 that the thought crossed my mind that these would be one of the very few mornings left in my life that I would be still be in bed that late in the morning.
Again, like any respecting adult, I drowned the sorrow of this imminent passing of an era by eating a rather unsuitable breakfast. Leftover fried rice, chicken curry and a crispy fried egg. All home made, mind you but probably home made around three days ago, bar the fried egg.
Slaveboy and I wondered over to the carboot sale. There was a distinct lack of stalls despite it being sunny by English standards and unfortunately, there were few bargains to be had.
Slaveboy did end up having to carry a chaise longue home. I did offer to help but the pace I took while admiring his derrière was probably to slow that he was too far ahead to hear me.
Here it is. In need of re-upholstering but Pantalooned BoyCat seems to approve.
Never you mind, the sideways glittery Jesus on the bookcase behind the chaise longue, he’s just having a rest.