(Music notes) So put your little hand in mine/ there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb...
It's Day One once over again and public outcry has forced the government to allow farmer's markets to remain open even during a whole lot of plague.
Sing the chorus with me: This is how new outbreaks happen, you ignorant firkin sods.
I swear to the Powers That Be, the world is going to end through the actions of the Wilfully Ignorant. We need to make science easier to understand, or the new dark ages will come to us through a whole bunch of conspiracy theories tied to a cat.
Bread made my day sideways, yesterday. I still got through it and whatnot, but I went through it in the awkwardest of awkward ways.
The dough is thawing as I type, and there shall be bread in the evening. By the night, those fresh-baked loafs will be sliced by Beloved and packed either in the fridge or the freezer. Depending.
That way, I can monitor how much bread we've got and not have to fret about it going dry or getting mouldy.
Today and tomorrow - I'm writing my story and signing offline. Watch my Instagram to see if I manage to make bread with the butts in.