Rainy day and a litany of moans

Last weekend I was moaning about the heat. These last few months, the east coast was alight and blanketed in smoke haze.

This weekend?

Heavy, flooding rain.

Perfect for cake baking and eating; red wine drinking; book reading. All of which I did.

It was Mr San’s birthday. So I bake him some chocolate brownies. I also baked a fiddley cake.

I’m not a fan of baking cakes that require rubbing butter into the flour nor ones that requires layers of fruit and batter. Why does there never seem to be enough batter for the top layer?

This cake had both. Turning butter and flour into breadcrumb texture and layers of batter and tinned plums.

I was nervous. My oven is shite. It cooks too quickly. I am sure it is hotter than the now rubbed off knob use to say it was. It also burns every cake on the back right side. How can a tiny space not heat evenly? Brownies can have the burnt bits cut off. Not so cake.

I think I was a little preemptive in taking the cake out. This cake was for colleagues at work. Two birthdays. Fearing a gooey mess in the middle, I had to try a bit.

Quite good. But not the done thing to bring in a cake with a slice missing. Should I blame my sons?

I will make this cake again. Despite having to rub the butter and flour. But I won’t layer. I will just mix in some stewed apples. Or grated apple – even easier.

In honour of Mr S, I also cooked up a bowel of chilli. (He loved it in the States.) It was to be for Monday night but it is so stormy here that we won’t venture out for the traditional birthday dinner outing. Much of our suburb is without power and roads are flooded so best to stay at home.

Our pool and gutters are overflowing. Trees, exhausted and dried out from the heat and drought, can’t bear the weight of wet branches so are dropping them. We have a liquid amber in the front yard. They are renowned, after gums, to be branch droppers. Luckily it has only dropped a small branch. Thus far.

We also have a repeatedly leaking roof. Several plumbers couldn’t find the problem. One fixed it. And it stayed fixed for about two years.

Until now.

It is pouring through again. Quite depressing. So I sit elsewhere. I don’t want an internal water feature.

On the first day back at work I caught my foot in a piece of furniture. As usual, I was in a rush. My foot twisted, and I went down like the proverbial sack of potatoes. (Thank you, Evelyn for letting me know the proverbial sack wasn’t full of shite but root vegetables.)

Two weeks later and, while the bruising that coated my foot like a sock has gone as have the several more noticeable bruises, and the swelling has subsided, my ankle is still very sore.

I have finally decided to heed he advice of all and sundry and make an appointment to see a doctor. I think I have bilateral tendon damage.

It is most annoying. I can’t wear high heels. Not even little heels. I can’t walk my usual walks. I clop along like an Igor. I can’t sit cross legged. And it randomly hurts.

On the day I fell, I had some reaction to something and my eyes went red like a vampire. A few people suggested conjunctivitis. Me??? No way. I wouldn’t get something manky like that. Had it once when I was ten. I remember feeling aghast then.

Twenty four hours later I agreed to try the eye drops. (I can’t stand drops in my eyes.) Turns out I probably did have conjunctivitis. But also turns out you can get it from allergic reaction to cosmetics or dust. Plenty of dust here two weeks ago. And I used a new eyeshadow. (I thought conjunctivitis was up there with ringworm – a sign of unclean practices.)

As I said, a litany of woes.

But what I’m really upset about is, this weekend I found out Billy Bragg is coming to Australia for a special three night show. But it’s sold out. I hate that I’m missing out. I wish I never found out. Then I’d never have this deep feeling of disappointment. I saw him at his first tour of Australia, and then about three other tours. Maybe he’ll be performing in 2021 when I’m in the UK?

Thank god for cake, tea, red wine and books.

And buckets. And towels. Thank god for those this weekend.

And also for Mr Towles. Who wrote the book I’m loving.

10 thoughts on “Rainy day and a litany of moans

  1. Oh.my.goodness! Your poor foot. That would have been so painful. And sad to say, it looks like quite some damage done.

    And yes, this weather. Again, I find it foreboding to look at the chain of events: dust and dry eyes. leaking roof. tree limbs. cars damaged in the recent hail. If this is (indeed) a preview of climate warming events, we are seeing first-hand how quickly events can spiral.

    The cake though – looks truly amazing!! Happy Birthday to Mr Sans! 🙂

  2. Definitely want to get the ankle checked out to make sure the tendon isn’t damaged. Ask me how I know. The more I walked on mine, the more I shredded the (peroneal) tendon. Surgery followed. Best of luck with the ankle and all the other equally annoying medical issues. Does make one feel like shite. The weather does not help either.

  3. Good heavens, a definite litany of woes. Let’s hope you get good news and sound advice from the doctor, even a photograph shows how painful your poor foot must be. Hope the Birthday Boy enjoyed his chilli dinner and cake and brownies! Good luck with sorting out the leak. Hope the heavy rain subsides and you can get a steady supply of the more more useful gentle variety to soothe your burnt earth and feed the rivers and streams.

  4. That bruise looks terrible! I hope you are feeling better soon.

    It’s amazing how something you take for granted (eg. feet not hurting) can change everything when it isn’t working as usual. For us this summer it has been breathing. The rain has finally come to the Snowy Mountains and most of our fires are out. The air has cleared. It is interesting to consider how our thoughts about clean air changed from early December when it started through until mid-February when it finally cleared up. Through most of December I would wake every morning with red eyes and a sore throat. Oh, how I moaned. The air smelled like smoke even though it looked clear. Then at the end of December things really kicked in. I couldn’t see 50m down the street, even though the fires were a long way from our place. We stayed indoors with everything shut up. Over New Years we had cold ash fall. I felt like I had ash in my mouth. I would have a shower in ashy-smelling water, and dry myself with a smoky towel before putting on smoky clothes and living in my closed up, ashy house. By the end of January the air quality was similar to late December, but we had moved on to having all the doors and windows open, doing outdoor chores, sports, my husband resumed walking to work. I no longer smelled the smoke or ash, but the air quality ratings told me it was all still there, and I couldn’t see the surrounding hills clearly. We just couldn’t live shut up any longer. And our bodies (and minds) seemed to have adjusted to the dirty conditions. Now it feels strange to actually take a deep breath of this newly clean air. To fill my lungs and not feel chest pain.

    You’ve reminded me that our garage roof leaks. I’d better go and check what the kids have dumped on the floor in there in the past 11 months since it last leaked!

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