I’m not fond of baking; I rarely bake. Occasionally I’m flooded with a spurt of kitchen hormones, inducing great feats of domestic achievement. Today was not one of those days, so it was somewhat against my will that I produced a tray of smartie-topped cookies. Nick negotiated with me because he wanted the nibblies – his end of the bargain was to wash all the baking mess, always part of the reason why the duty is so odious – he sure won me over on that one!
And yes, I am aware that I look like a piglet in the photo. Nick says it's one of the reasons he married me.
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