The clock strikes 11. So far today I've manged to make gooey treacle toffee, Y'know the failed attempt that never sets, create a mound of washing up and leave work surfaces strewn in a sticky mess.
I don't know why I did it. You see I have this stupid desire to make perfect treacle toffee. I've made all manner of concoctions in my time, adding an array of ingredients each time different to the last but I never seem to get the mix right! My gran used to make the most perfect toffee, every time a success. My attempt usually ends up in the bin or a chewing contest between my hubby and daughter which then usually ends in a dentist appointment and new fillings.
The dog was quiet for hours when it once sneakily took a particularly chewy one from the bin. It couldn't bark, snarl or get rid of the goo as it scraped its mouth in the grass. By all accounts it was probably one of the funniest things I've ever witnessed, almost cartoon motion in fact. It taught her a lesson though -- never to root in bins!
As my latest attempt is scraped into the bin, I've decided never to make treacle toffee again. I'll stick to cakes; at least they seem to go down much better!