There's something about parkin...

The Boy and I have been having Teatime after school, as a social exercise with his tutors in life skills. Sadly, the poor gel has to learn how to drink hot tea herself. But it means I get to limber up lots of dusty utensils, and it is finally cool enough to use the oven.

I learned scones and crumble and griddle scones and oatcakes and crumpets and trifle over there, but not until JKR reported that her favorite childrens book was The Little White Horse, and I read that, did I hear of parkin. Then I had to look it up in the dictionary and extrapolate.

It's probably not authentic because of the blackstrap instead of treacle, and the wholewheat flour. It might be too trendy to make it in triangles like yuppie scones. The Yorkshire scones I had were rectangular and very white. But it tastes good, this stuff I am calling parkin, and it splits nicely for toasting.

We have reached the bottom of October's budget barrel. Surprise-- it hurts way less to admit as much to spouse and be absolved of visiting, and stay home eating parkin. As long as we have electricity and The November money arrives promptly, life is actually liveable.