Eggs

I flew back to Scotland on Friday evening. As soon as we crossed the border the turbulence started. We bounced and bumped our way onto the runway. I stepped off the aeroplane and as I inhaled I could taste the frost. This was after a week of walking round Bristol with no coat on. Funnily enough it just made me feel fond of Auld Reekie and glad to be home.

It was lovely to wake up yesterday morning to the sounds of the farm. Tractors chugging off up the lane and dogs barking. Scotland has been hit by gale force winds this weekend and they howled round our house. We stoked up the stove and Big Dreamer requested an egg-themed lunch. Here is a sketch of Little Owl’s boiled egg being kept warm by an egg cosy knitted for her by her Great Grandma. We followed this up with egg                                                                              custard tarts. Not bad!

 

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