Sunday Update

We had a really busy Saturday here, busier than usual but seeing as we have a nice long weekend and the husband will be able to relax on Monday and Tuesday I thought we might as well get all the madness out of the way on Saturday and leave the rest of the weekend free and clear. Toots spent the morning running around in her dad's new visor but he had to take it back to finally try out the new wood lathe. He's been out there in the garage this morning whittling away and I'll show you the fruits of his labour later in the week.


First thing Saturday morning we headed to Makro which is basically a huge wholesalers. I may have went a it mad when I grabbed 5kg of chicken.



But considering the bag turned out to contain exactly 30 fillets (don't you love nice round numbers) and it cost less than £17.00 I was a happy bunny. It looks a little less unwieldy once its all neatly bagged and sorted out for the chest freezer.



Oh, and I also picked up a bag of sugar or two along with a few kilos of stork. Well, 16kgs of sugar altogether but it was dirt cheap and well worth it.

But you know what that means don't you? Regularly scheduled cakey programming on Simply Food will resume in 3...2...1

Oh we do like to be beside the seaside.

Oh don't look at me like that.

Yes I'll admit, I'm drawn to the water. I can't help myself. It's a sickness really.

It's a handy thing that we have such beautiful beaches here.

This is Knockinelder.






See that, not another soul in sight. That's because Knockinelder is on the invisible part of the Ards Peninsula. The bit below the convenient little red line.

Nobody seems to know it exists.

It's my favourite bit of the peninsula.




We collected Toots from my mum's house on Sunday afternoon and headed out with no real plan of where to go. She fell asleep in the back of the car so we just kept going along the full length of the east coast. She eventually woke up, desperate for the loo just as we were passing Kearney.

We pulled in to the tiny little village and even though it was a full two days ago now, I think the husband is still there. He completely fell in love with the place as soon as he set eyes on it, with its tiny little white washed cottages, perfect little picket fence enclosed gardens, all beautifully manicured and filled with flowers and its private little cove beach, he's even more determined to win the lottery now:)

The tide was out when we arrived and the sun was beating down. We could feel the heat on our faces and the sand was warm under foot.




But none of that changes the fact that we're dealing with the Irish Sea.

If you don't know, the Irish Sea is pickling cold. All. Year. Round.

Not that any of that stops of four year old.

She had already fallen in to the water face first by this stage and was completely soaked, but still that didn't stop her.

I was perfectly content to sit on the sand, with my hot cup of coffee and my camera merrily taking pictures like every good mother should.

But then the husband got stuck in.

The bugger.

Quietly egging my on. Calling me a chicken. Telling me the child had more stones than I did...

So, as promised and without any further ado.

I give you Leanne, the big ass chicken.

Running like a demented person back out of the Irish Sea.

Because the child does in fact have bigger stones than me.

I should have grown out of this kind of behaviour years ago.

And its disgraceful that the husband can still get a rise out of me.