Stream of consciousness

Waffling on ...

Scott Berkun (  suggested this week that we should put pen to paper (0r digit to keyboard) with whatever comes to mind … and let it happen.

I’m not sure just how interesting that would be. My mind is always going off on tangents. Wouldn’t that be incredibly frustrating for a reader who’s looking for something meaty and substantial? The fact that I start a thought – and then take off somewhere completely different without finishing the original line.

Reminiscent Beethoven’s ‘Unfinished Symphony’ – not that I would call my ramblings a symphony, waffling on would be more appropriate.

This morning I treated my partner’s grandchildren to waffles for breakfast. I haven’t made waffles for years … they were a great favourite when my children were younger, especially if they had friends visiting. A story, now family legend, tells of a time when one our visitors (you know who you are) took afternoon teas to a new level!

The kids had arrived home after school and were ravenous as usual. I’d prepared the waffle batter  (my friend Trisha’s best ever recipe), set the table, put out the jam and the maple syrup, whipped the cream and had everything ready for an orderly tea party. It was not to be … at that time of day kids have had enough of good behavior, enough of being restrained.

Whipped cream was my mistake.

Firstly one of our guests decided that burying her face in the cream was in order. Uproarious laughter and a gorgeous face (female) dripping with cream and raspberry jam! The scene was set – spoons quickly dived into the bowl of cream. Great dollops were flung at each other. Mayhem …

The story was retold to today’s wee guests with much laughter. The protagonist is their aunty.

I didn’t serve cream this morning.

There I’ve done it again …


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