Shortbread really shouldn’t be this difficult

In preparation for the momentous party that my sister is throwing today (throwing? Like, is she throwing it out the window? Off a cliff?) she has requisitioned approximately 5 billion tonnes of food. The fridge has never been so full, and that’s no exaggeration. I’d have shoved a load of it into the freezer but that’s so full the door barely closes now.

Yesterday I had to fend off a wave of blinis. I barely escaped with my life.

Today, however, the blinis have been vanquished by the simple method of putting them in the oven. Kills everything, that does. So I was left with the task of creating certain dessert options such as lemon shortbread.

FYI: Anything involving butter is tricky when the butter is literally melting in the bowl. At least creaming the butter and sugar was really really easy, I guess. The tricky part was when I wanted to shape the dough-batter into biscuits. Because it’s so …. gooey, it didn’t really want to let go of the surface I tried to roll it on, and no amount of sprinkled flour would make it let go. My neat rectangles became deformed polygons.

My predicament was obvious. The solution? Well, I came up with a solution both ingenious and slightly mad: roll the datter into a cylinder, and then slice the cylinder to make discs.

The snag, of course, was that the bough was so sticky that it just sort of flattened on one side. End result: failure.

It’s in the fridge now. Hopefully by the time I come to actually cut the damn thing it’ll be more willing to listen to reason.


Getting really stressed for no reason

Before Christmas we had to hand in our formative essays. (‘Formative essays’ means that even if you do well it’s not going to count because a) it doesn’t count and b) it’s first year and first year doesn’t count) I managed to put it completely out of my mind until the other day when I got an email telling me to go and pick up my essays from the common room.

I didn’t panic. Or so I thought.

That night, I had a really odd dream. I dreamt that I got 0/100 on my essay, and the instructor emailed me the next day to say I failed the whole thing because of my AS. In the dream, I didn’t actually care that much about the essay. Actually, I think I was more focused on watching Star Trek or something, because I just completely ignored the email.

Needless to say, I didn’t get 0/100. (Actually, I got a first in that essay. So I definitely didn’t fail) But it got me thinking. First, I wasn’t consciously thinking about my essay results, but obviously I had remembered it on some level otherwise I wouldn’t have had the dream. Secondly, I have absolutely no concrete idea about how well I’m doing/how they mark essays at uni.

I’d say that next time I’ll be more calm because I know I probably won’t fail, but why change a winning formula?