Feck it, frozen egg yolks go rubbery if not mixed with sugar/salt prior to freezing. And I froze loads...
But never mind!
Me and the kiddlers were invited over to a friend's (erstwhile blogger Midgetwrangler, currently wrangling too many midgets to also wrangle blog posts) for out dinner last night, and she served us up a fabulous feast of M&S fabulousness: three kinds of melon and pineapple slices, ciabatta with tapenade, olive and red pepper, and butternut squash and chili dip, and Italian meats a plenty, and olives, aubergines and artichoke hearts. And cheeses. And that was just to start!
Bodhi and his little friend came and sat at the table while their big sisters played on the green, and ate olive tapenade and drank real lemonade, and Bodhi discovered the delights of salami. They sat there like little happy gents, tasting and chatting, it was so funny.
We had garlic bread, cheesy linguini and courgettes and salad.
And then dessert was beautiful cupcakes, homemade meringue and lemon curd icecream with fresh berries, and a chocolate Caterpillar Cake. I mean, for fuck's sake, right? I even got to hold the baby.
It was incredibly nice to be so treated, the evening was only slightly marred by my violent son taking out his frustration on his poor little friend - first just hitting him, then beating him round the face and head with a fork. 'He hit me. He cracked my face. He hit my face!' Poor little baba, Bodhi has become a terror. What to do? They still had fun running screaming from a slug repeatedly, though. The sheer joy of hysteria.
We got home late, I fed Bodhi to sleep, I try not to as a rule, but he was wrecked, and I had a Friends of Breastfeeding meeting right then. But as I was trying to type, he started crying and wailing.
'What's wrong?' (You fractious little bastard)
'Not workin! Not workin', Mammi!' he wailed out, in total misery. Oops, time for the other side. '
Not workin', bless him.