This morning I was making jam before the school run.
Sounds impressive/nuts, yes?
I threw 1kg blackberries and roughly 700g Jam sugar in my slow pot. Added a big squeeze of lemon juice and a pinch of salt, gave it a quick mash-up, put the lid on and switched it on high. Having put the timer on for 2 1/2 hours I just got on with the rest of my morning.
I dropped my son at school and then nipped into town to pick up a few bits.
Boots were collected from the cobblers, the chemist was visited and so too was the music shop where I had to buy a Recorder.
My son has decided to join Recorder club and so we enter a bold new era of music practise. I will not
endure enjoy this alone, I will make sure friends and family get to at every available opportunity.
After the music shop, I slope sheepishly into the hairdressers. I have not stepped foot in there for almost a year and it shows. My hair is bad. I look like one of those mangy lions with no Pride that wanders around stealing scraps of food and getting beaten up by bigger lions with better hair. The manager tries not to stare and we agree to get it done sooner rather than later. Appointment booked.
I take my daughter to the cafe for a treat. It is her penultimate day with me before goes to big school *Sniff*
She shows her gratitude by boldly pointing at the man sitting next to us and solemnly declares “That man has no hair”. Cue me necking hot tea and getting out as soon as possible.
When we get home the 2 1/2 hours is up and I give the jam a quick stir and set the timer for another three hours. Leaving the lid off this time.
Three loads of washing are done and then put out on the line.
Chicken is roasted.
Lunch is made and consumed.
A blog post is drafted.
The house is quickly tidied and then it is school run and a trip to the park.
And all this time my slow cooker is making me jam!
All I need to do is pop it in jars and make it look pretty.