Pastry, Fucking Pastry & The Namer of Storms

I hate pastry. I really fucking hate pastry and it hates me. Even store bought pastry hates me. It refuses to just unroll, it has to stretch and tear and stick to the damn paper, by the time it’s usable, it no longer is because it’s shapeless, full of holes and almost transparent in places. The slices of puff pastry are no better, if the filling isn’t pulped, it’ll rip bloody great holes in the pastry while it bakes. It’s always too thin to do a damned thing with.

So you ball it up and knead it and try to roll it out yourself at which point it won’t roll out, keeps shrinking and instead of sticking together as it’s supposed to when you seal it with milk, it slides around, sticks to your fingers and generally pisses you off as much as possible while rendering itself unusable. So you chuck it in the fuck-it bucket and have burgers and chips for dinner instead.! I’m not using pastry again. If there’s pastry involved Bear can do it.

The girl child lost her match yesterday, not unexpected, as her team had never played that particular team before and had no idea as to their abilities or strengths. The boy child helped me fuck up the pizza rolls and we ate what was passably edible and I watched Star Wars Rebels on Disney+ while he built pixel art on the Xbox, we saved the rest for Bear, who said he’d deal with the pizza rolls later. I didn’t write a word all day because I was too strung out and pissed off about the pastry.

I’m looking forward to going to the Mommy’s later. Bear’s taking the kids into school, so they don’t have to cycle and has told their mother she needs to pick them up around 4, because the weather report says it’s gonna be bad in their neck of the woods and he won’t have them cycling home in gale force winds. She’s become a bit of a hands-off Mum since her marriage last July. Her entire world revolves around her husband and herself and the kids come second.

They’ll be moving to a new house in March, which is closer to their school by 3.3 miles. It’ll save them both around 6.5 miles a day of cycling. The boy child is extremely pleased about that. He hates cycling. He’d hate walking too. He hates anything to do with getting his ass off the settee that doesn’t involve food. Much like Bear. Storm Ciara has decided to pay us a visit… who makes up these names.? Do they get paid to.? Is there going to be a Storm Colin or a Hurricane Nigel at some point.?

Oooh, how about Storm Amanda and Hurricane Darren.? No, those were not suggestions. Jeez.!

UPDATE: Bear made pastry… and as with everything else in this house, it worked perfectly. He made pizza rolls, they rolled no problem, baked no problem and didn’t fall to bloody pieces… I hate pastry.! 😦