‘How do you like your eggs in the morning?’ was a chat up line oft used to Lovely One in days of yore.
‘Unfertilised,’ would come the reply.
Any road up, last week four dozen eggs were wolfed down in the Underground Lair by the Wood Nymph et Moi.
‘What the Devil were you doing with them all?’ you might enquire, Dear Reader.
‘Seeking poached egg perfection,’ would come the retort.
That, and the production of yet another baking anomaly from the coffin-sized kitchen of Lovely One.
One’s latest baked good was the production of a Lemon Sludge Cake. The receipt called for a Lemon Drizzle Cake, but One’s drizzle wouldn’t.
A man-sized portion was fed to Boy who inhaled it with the comment, ‘Yeah that was OK.’
No matter, the WN took the rest to the workshop whereupon the assembled woodcutters enquired as to how One had baked a cake with a perfectly spherical hole right through the centre.
One’s fecked if One knows!
Cleared off into the wilds for some more oeufs and was seduced by the offer of a shed load for practically zilch from ‘caged hens’
Mindful of a telling off by the Wood Nymph, One pulled up at a farm and biffed the required spons into the ‘Honesty Box’ and acquired some free range (still with the poop on)