The demise of the last sourdough starter and moving house has meant that yeast has been used for baking for the last month or so. With the kitchen now full of yeasty bready goodness it was time to start a fresh starter. I chucked some flour and water in to a bowl and left it to do its thing. After a couple of days it was bubbling away nicely.
After four days I chucked (nothing was weighed or measured) half the starter, some flour, warm water and a bit of salt into a bowl at eight in the morning leaving it to do its thing with an occasional knead or stretch and fold. It was baked at six in the evening after an hour or so proving. It probably could have done with a couple more hours and the oven was probably too hot for too long but it is perfectly edible and very tasty.
A crowded bus on the point of leaving Manchester for Stockport was found by its conductress to have one too many standees. She therefore asked, “Who was the last person to get on the bus?” No one said a word. Declaring that the bus would not leave until the extra passenger was put off, she went and fetched the driver, who also asked, “All right, who was the last person to get on the bus?” Again there was a public silence. So the two went to find an inspector. He asked, “Who was the last person to get on the bus?” No one spoke. He then announced that he would fetch a policeman. While the conductress, driver, and inspector were away looking for a policeman, a little man came up to the bus stop and asked, “Is this the bus to Stockport?” Hearing that it was, he got on. A few minutes later the three returned accompanied by a policeman. He asked, “What seems to be the trouble? Who was the last person to get on the bus?” The little man said, “I was.” The policeman said, “All right, get off.” All the people on the bus burst into laughter. The conductress, thinking they were laughing at her, burst into tears and said she refused to make the trip to Stockport. The inspector then arranged for another conductress to take over. She, seeing the little man standing at the bus stop, said, “What are you doing there?” He said, “I’m waiting to go to Stockport.” She said, “Well, this is the bus to Stockport. Are you getting on or not?”
At the end of the wild wasteland which we call the garden live some foxes. Mum and the cubs were out in the spring sunshine amongst the bluebells and butterflies today. The video is from my iPod so the quality is not great for zooming in. If the WiFi reaches down there we could be adding a remote camera and set up a FoxCam page.