Another Conall moment

Conall appeared at about 10pm last night in the lounge, came round to the settee, sat down between us and made himself comfy.

"What's up Conall?"

"I can't find Aedan's t-shirt."

"Why does Aedan need his t-shirt?" (really stupid question mum, it's 10 o'clock at night!)

"I can't find it and he needs it."

"I don't think he needs it now, find it in the morning."

"But he needs it and I've got to find it and I can't."

The penny drops.

Conall is asleep, with his eyes open, sleepwalking.

Rhiannon used to sleep with her eyes open, which other people found quite disturbing. She also used to sleepwalk, which was a pain. She let the side down and couldn't multi-task, doing both at the same time!

He had no recollection of it all this morning and Aedan wasn't looking for a t-shirt.

Doh!

Some friends of mine run a farm and coffee shop and were recently left in the lurch by an employee. As I spend copious amounts of time in my own kitchen, washing up, cooking etc, I offered my services for a few days to help out.

They accepted.

I chopped salad, made up coleslaw, egg mayonnaise, tuna mayonnaise, made malteser slice and mars bars crispies, filled a Victoria sponge, iced sprinkle cakes, made top hats, and baked carrot cake, as well as washing stacks of dishes.

Another task was making the buttericing to fill and top a lemon sponge.

"Two of marg, four and a half of icing sugar," said Moira, "You'll need a tea towel to cover the mixer so you don't get covered."

I carefully measured the ingrediants, popped into the Kenwood, covered and switched on. Waited a while and removed the cloth. Peered into the mixer.

"Can't see why that would make a mess," me thinks.

Moira comes to stand next to me and peer into the mixer.

We look at each other.

I say to Moira,

"Pounds, not ounces."

Moira collapses in a corner, tears streaming down her face.

I add more. Carefully.

Made her day.