Apr 11, 2020: Twenty-Two

Today was not better.

Today was the day of the supermarket shop. The day of long lists of alternate items and the crushing news that bread flour and yeast are still the rarest things on the fucking planet. I genuinely want to go door-to-door to all these Johnny-come-lately’s houses and check that they are actually making bread with all this flour and yeast they’re buying and not just buying it just in case while still getting a side order of all the bread.

Honestly, just piss off back to buying your bread and leave those of us who have been making bread week in and week out for years now to do what we enjoy doing. I bet you’re all doing the window pane method when it comes to kneading as well because you saw it on an episode of Bake Off or something. I just knead mine until it feels sexy and then I let it prove and it’s fricking amazing. And I have not once checked whether I can see light through my dough.

Anyway, there was that.

And then there was the thing where Sainsbury’s feel it’s ok to substitute a large Easter egg with a small one.

No it pissing well isn’t. Give me two small ones, you bastards.

And the large one we did get – a large which, incidentally, was subbed for another large – didn’t have the accompanying chocolate with it. Some fuckturd had stolen it.

And our delivery driver wouldn’t shut up. I thought – nay, hoped – that Social Distancing in this case would mean I wouldn’t have to engage in small talk. But no, nerdy driver want talky. He told me he felt how he looked. Which was, I’ll be honest, sweaty and dirty. And not the good kind of dirty.

I felt how I looked, as well, which was as though I didn’t want to talk to the driver. But hey ho, he didn’t pick up on that.

Did I mention the chocolate thing as well?

Still, at least those essential Werther’s Originals turned up. That was lucky.