Aga Saga

This weeks burnt offerings:

1. Bacon
2. Roast veg
3. Flap jacks
4. My arm
5. Zoë’s hand

The honeymoon is over. It’s basically a crematorium for food and a self-harming device for anyone standing within 2 feet of it. You can’t smell ANYTHING! what is the point of THAT? That is my preferred method of timing food. Especially baking. Stupid Swedish über-stylish form-over-function oil guzzling child burning cake ruining piece of shit. AND it can’t even boil eggs very well. AND the kids can’t stand precariously on a chair stirring beans anymore. Not since the Zoë’s hand incident. So over it. Meanwhile, downstairs, my MiL is bemoaning her brand new, über efficient, mutts nuts, FIVE ring electric cooker. I would swap in a heartbeat if it didn’t require a team of (Swedish) bomb disposal experts and a chinook to move the Aga.

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