Figgy pudding

Market day today, and also the day when the local clubs (sports, crafts, etc) take over the biggest hall in town to lure in new members. This is when you can sort out activities for your kids for the year to fill up their Wednesdays. Our kids are surprisingly reserved about this - despite having a list of clubs they wanted to join when we arrived in France. Perhaps reality has hit a bit and they both realise how much of Wednesday they need to keep free for homework and learning French.

Anyway, Conor turned down all suggestions with a curt "No, I just want to do football" - but we couldn't find the football stand anywhere. Finally he poked me on the hip and pointed, speechless with joy, at a table crowded with people. Between two men's bottoms, he had spotted a football. They (the owners of the bottoms) seemed very nice, so we signed him up. Katherine, who already has horseriding booked up, didn't want to add anything, unless we could find a canoeing club. We couldn't (though I know there is one). Mr B is flirting with maybe doing archery, and also picked up some leaflets about a steel guitar band (he doesn't play, but you never know - they might need a pianist). I think mainly he was just entranced that there would be a club specially for steel guitars. I looked for a photography club, but didn't find one. Anyway: when would I have time for a club?

Next, a search for a photo booth to get our passport photos done. Katherine's passport has already run out - which is stressing me out a bit - and mind and Mr B's run out soon. The train station, rather surprisingly, didn't have one - but we found one at the supermarket and managed to all get pictures that make us look rubbish, but not unrecognisably so.

Home then to lunch on cheese and bread from the market and for me to tackle the fig mountain. Mr B has complained about the lack of space in the fridge for beer (and other essentials) so I made another batch of jam which, without jam sugar, was refusing to set even with a lemon in it. I finally managed to get it to mostly set. Then on to the figgy pudding, a suggestion from a friend and blip lurker. It's supposed to be orange, fig and fennel seeds, but we discovered at the last minute that we didn't have any fennel seeds. The idea of the tart is that it's for people who have a fig mountain, but don't really like figs that much. We love figs, so I did half the tart to the recipe (minus the fennel seeds) and half just figs and honey. Katherine pronounced it "delicious, but I didn't like the orange or the figs. The pastry was nice." Conor just had a biscuit instead (though in a shocking development did eat all his dinner tonight - including vegetables). Mr B and I enjoyed the tart, but would probably have a higher fig to orange ratio next time. Recipe here.

Now, after a rubbish sleep last night, it's time to fall asleep on the sofa in front of whatever Mr B is watching.