Ye olde play dough

The recipe I jotted down (perhaps from Woman's Hour?) 30 years ago still stands me in good stead and the squidgey stuff, if kept airtight between sessions, remains malleable for months. Today K. surged into the kitchen on arrival with an urgent request to play work with it, and was joined by her sister when she woke up a little later. She teases me by raising it to her mouth to taste  - it's supposed to be too salty to be edible (although the dog scoffs the fall-out).
 Rolling pins, scone rings, pastry cutters and cake cases are all drawn into the mix until, urge satisfied, the dough girls move on to the next entertainment.

Another day's grandparenting.