Perhaps it was the welcome persistent rain that lulled me into dreamlike euphoria the other night.
Perhaps I was in a state of flow, deeply concentrating on my studies, head into the computer.
Perhaps I just don’t know how to use the oven.
Whatever the cause, it resulted in a culinary disaster. I was starting to wonder which of my neighbours was soon to burn down their apartment. But the culprit was much closer to home. Like that baker of ancient Anglo-Saxon times, Alfred the Great, I burned the cakes.
Some say that King Alfred did not burn the cakes at all. He’s been subject to bad press for many centuries, and it’s really propaganda fed to us by bored teachers who understandably try anything to jump-start those dull, adolescent brains staring at them from the back of the classroom. Nothing like the mention of food to wake up a teenager.
But, apparently, Alfred burned the bread, not the cakes. Fleeing his enemies of the time back in the 9th century, he hid in a farmer’s cottage. The woman of the house, not knowing his identity, but being a generous and helpful sort, invited him to share her dwelling. And in so doing thought it only fair that the visitor pull his weight, and give her a hand with the household chores.
‘Alfie . Check this out. There’s our bread in the oven. I’m just going to feed the baby. I’ll be back soon. In the meantime, you watch the bread. Make sure it doesn’t burn. The loaves are almost ready. Are you listening? Yes. Just a few more minutes. Can you do that? Yes. Great. Okay.’ Well, apparently his mind was on the affairs of state rather than the bread.
And as all of us know, ie those who are deeply involved in downloading the whole of the internet because there just might be something in that last paper that will significantly benefit my latest research . . . oh and there’s another one, just a minute, I’ll check those cakes in one more minute, yes I heard the buzzer . . um, that looks interesting (more downloading) . . . what’s that? (rushes to kitchen) Grilled muffins? How did that happen? What a useless oven. Oh. It was on grill rather than the fan-forced oven setting. How did that happen. Charcoaled chocolate. Rather disappointing. Can I just slice the tops off – that might work.
Well, you can’t help being in a state of flow can you. Maybe I need an executive offsider, to look after matters of cakeness. And they might do a bit of floor cleaning too while they’re at it – and the bathroom’s a bit black around the edges – throw some bleach on the walls would you. Thanks.
