The Apprentice wanted a tiny weeny birthday cake for his boss. I am so deliriously happy that this young man employs our young man that it was a pleasure to make him a little cake. However, I didn't start on the task til after dinner and it was jolly late by the time I had finished icing our kitchen. It is so sticky. Mr Smith is tutting.
I collected Tarquin's Quilt from the quilters and have started edging it. It looks quite smart with a wiggly blue bit all the way round the edge due to my inability to sew straight. The house is now covered in little bits of thread. Mr Smith is TUTTING.
I haven't sewn up Mr Smith's trouser hems. This is because every time I do a pair he produces another pair or two. I now have an enormous pile of trousers to alter. Is the man shrinking?
He was more than tutting over my failure to perform trousering tasks in time for his golfing last weekend. Gosh, he needs to be careful unless he wants shorts!
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