So, you want to play Devil’s Advocate, but you’re afraid you might come across as a bit (or a lot) of an asshole? Here’s some suggestions for how to avoid that.
I know! It’s been a while. But we’re in! I have baked, and it was good. There’s still a ton of stuff to do (plumbing, mostly) but the really important bits of kit are all in place and looking good.
We celebrated getting in by turning one of the decks up as high as it would go and making lots of pizzas and a few loaves of bread.
You may have noticed a distinct lack of Bakehouse Diary posts. It’s mostly because dad’s in the process of building some A-frames to allow him to get engines out of old cars and such, and to help me get the oven assembled so we can test it in the garage. Which would be the work of not very long at all, if dad wasn’t doing a million and one other things. He’s just back from a trip to Holland and France, “following” the route south that my Grandfather took after his Lancaster was shot down in 1943. Which is an entirely other post.
It’s also because, a couple of weeks ago, I took my wife into A&E because she was short of breath and, after a desperately apologetic bit of Friday night queue jumping (“Um… I’m sorry, but, err… would you mind awfully if I jumped the queue here? It’s just that, ah, my wife’s having trouble breathing”) and prompt action by a triage nurse, she crumpled.
I was whisked away to a small room with teamaking facilities where I could fret without getting in the way. Over the next hour or so the team of heroes in the resus ward kept her alive through cardiac and respiratory arrests. By the time they let me see her again, she was looking a good deal better and proceeded to bounce back with astonishing speed and was discharged just under a week after she was admitted. She’s much, much better now.
Something like that gives you pause.