Common sense is, I imagine, an extremely beneficial quality to have when one is responsible for taking care of 2 children, 2 dogs, 2 ducks, 1 cat and an entire house. Unfortunately though it is not a quality that I appear to possess.




I hadn't realised that my common sense had up and left, (I'm sure it used to be here somewhere?!) yet today it became all too apparent when I single-handedly tried to burn my house down.




I nearly killed myself. And how tragic it would have been too. Not merely because you'd all miss me, (yes, you would) but because I imagine during my funeral the priest would have to mention how the accident that had ended my life had occurred. And everybody would then know exactly how much of a stupid fool I really am, (or was.)




As it goes, for some odd reason I am going to risk humiliation and utter embarrassment by telling you how stupid I am here anyway. So please don't laugh.




The recipe, on the back of the packet of yeast I purchased yesterday afternoon, told me I was to put my carefully measured (by total estimation, since I don't yet own a pair of weighing scales) ingredients into a 'warm' bowl. And so, considering the cupboard where my bowls live is quite chilly,I decided to warm my bowl using the crappy broken hob on my even crappier cooker.




I placed said bowl upside down on top of the broken hob (which, providing the mains is switched on, is permanently hot) and I continued to potter around the house.




And then I noticed a peculiar smell fumigating the kitchen. I ran into the thick smoke that had gathered at the scene. I gasped, I swore and I flapped my arms around lots and then I realised that the bowl was in fact a plastic one and that plastic does in fact melt.




The bowl was by then more of a misshapen plate with a huge hole in it and was carefully relocated to the junk corner of the garden. And armed with an old knife, some kitchen roll and my dirt-buster I proceeded to spend the rest of the afternoon literally scraping cold-rock-hard plastic from my hob.




I did manage, eventually, to clear up the mess and continued, with caution, in my quest to bake some yummy bread. I kneaded the dough, wiped flour in my hair (just so I looked the part) and left the dough to rise, in the airing cupboard, balanced on the hoover. And then I baked it in the crappy oven .




And guess what? It was delicious. Well worth nearly dying for ;-)




So the moral of my story ladies and gents is that the pursuit of becoming a domestic goddess does indeed require a little common sense, (but if you really don't have it, just invest in a fire extinguisher instead.)




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