On Friday morning, I decided to bake a sticky toffee pudding for the Spouse. Sometimes I say things like that and it might just be a bit of a cover but this one was the real deal. Because Friday was a big day for him. He defended his PhD thesis. The long awaited viva.
We didn’t know how long this process would last. It could be an hour and a half or it could be three hours. And, of course, we didn’t know how it would go. (Well, I was remarkably confident but then I wasn’t the one standing up for three years worth of work.) But there was still dinner to plan, wasn’t there? And more importantly, dessert. So I settled on sticky toffee pudding.
The idea was that if things went badly, I wouldn’t want the Spouse to return home to a frosted layered party cake. He’d need comfort. That’s sticky toffee pudding.
But if things when fantastically superb, he’d need a glorious celebration. And that’s also sticky toffee pudding. Here’s the Jamie Oliver recipe I used.
It didn’t turn out quite as pretty as in the recipe picture. Between the kids and me, we didn’t get quite enough butter on the inside of the pan (thought there was plenty on the fingers…) and so the cake stuck a little. But we glued it back together with toffee sauce, and all was stickily well. We agreed that it looked lovely on the plate. Then I made them wait until Daddy came home.
A long, long wait.
But he came home grinning. He passed with minor corrections. Happy, happy news. ‘Minor corrections’ means that he now has three months to polish it up, to smooth a few rough edges and to implement a few suggestions from his examiners. No rebuilding. No rewriting. No more drastic work to do. Hallelujah!
Then the weekend opened up in front of us. A friend lent us her car, and we decided to explore. On Saturday, we headed south to the coast. Just writing that makes November feel further away, but I can assure you that the sea was grey and the wind was chilly. The road we took was rather winding, too, and the kids found it a little rough in the backseat. We did need to stop by the side of the road for two out of three green-faced kids. But then we found a beautiful little harbour with a thousand seagulls all calling out for Plum, and little boats with curious names which made the readers giggle. We shared chocolate squares and drank large cups of coffee in a cafe, watching the waves crash against the rocks. We found walked along the shore, the kids threw stones in the water and I took photos.
On Sunday, we went to church in the morning, and then headed for the hills in the afternoon. Up an old drovers road over moorland, towards a pass through the hills. The path was muddy, and we walked slowly. Woollen sweaters will need to be washed, but we figured out how to balance on an old stone wall and how to walk around the deepest muddy puddles using long reeds as handles and footholds. There were fences to sit on and bridges to cross, Pooh-sticks to play and more chocolate to share. Plum got cold hands and lost a boot, but he called out and we found it again. Blue wanted to be carried. Beangirl wanted to be in front. Mist gathered at the foot of the hill, and the sun sunk down to touch the tops. Sunset was breathtaking. 
You could read some of this as difficult or disappointing. You could make lists of the difficulties. But we came home grinning, so I’d call it a pass. With minor corrections.
Best make another pudding.
