Waiting . . .

Waiting for the soup to heat through!  Not homemade, but the bread is.  Nothing nicer than fresh, warm bread, preferably with lots of salty butter! It's a soup sort of a day, freezing, frosty, bone numbingly cold.  The lovely bowls were my granny's.  I've got quite a lot of kitchen bits and pieces of hers, and love using them.

The road was a sheet of ice as Ollie and I went to see elderly neighbours R & J.  They wanted to order some flowers for a friend of theirs down south but don't have a computer so I was getting my instructions on what to order, where to have them sent etc!  In return Ruth filled Ollie and me with home-baked shortbread before we slid home again!