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As you do.

We are current at ApplePieParentals for a while, until we can finally move into our new house. The sale of Dibley Towers and purchase of our new abode has been worthy of a bad soap opera script, one that I have had to resist from detailing online for fear of grinding the laptop keypad into dust in anger as I type.

So that’s one thing which has kept me from blogging. That, and the fear I might be discovered and read by the buyer of our house and sued for libel. Except it’s not libel, because it’s true. There are three sides to every story, ours, hers and the truth. Let me tell you that our version, and the truth, will make you want to froth at the mouth with indignation. The house buying system in this country sucks. Big time. We were gazundered, insulted, blackmailed and eventually held over a barrel. It hurts me, actually. And now I have to hand across my beloved little house over which I have lavished time, attention and not inconsiderable amounts of money and stress to someone I wouldn’t leave a dead pigeon with. That’s saying something, for I am not known for my pigeon loving fancies.

So I have been baking a lot to deal with my frustrations. Fortunately, for the sake of my waistline, it is shortly the local village gala. So I can channel cakes to the wider public via the WI stand and not have to eat them myself. I am freezing them in the meantime, just in case the vulture moving in decides that she’d like to have any freezer contents from the last <insert arbitrary and random date from thin air> along with her several pints of blood, the garden bench, and our curtains.

My mother has a rather nifty new kitchen widget which I have been itching to try out. It’s an electric zester. I’m not sure I’m completely coverted, in spite of the fact it was great fun and claims that it saves masses of time. I remain unconvinced that life is too short to grate a lemon when you need one. By the time you’ve set it up I could have grated a bag of the things. With the widget it feels a bit like you’re shaving a lemon, which depending upon your viewpoint can be either a grand experience or just plain weird.

I think I’ll stick to a grater, thanks.

Zesting gives me time to ponder. Perhaps that’s why I like it so much. Not least because we have to come up with a new nickname for Dibley Towers Mark II – we are only going around the corner, to the next street over. So Dibley can stay, thankfully. All suggestions welcome.

In the meantime, there are cakes to be baked, lemons to be zested, and hands to be sat upon so I do not reveal too much and find myself cast out into the blogging wilderness. Where, to be honest, I have been for the past few months and do not wish to go again. This time I really mean it – I promise I won’t disappear again!