Marmalade time

Phew: it set!

I'm never too good at guessing when the Seville oranges will arrive.  Fifteen years ago, I had it all made (though with a last-minute panic reboil to get the last batch to setting point!) before I left to spend Christmas in Australia.  Not sure when I did it last year, but I nearly missed the boat this time.  Par conséquent, I spent longer than is comfortable this morning in supermarkets, ultimately finding supplies in the place run by a firm that used to pride itself in never knowingly being undersold.  Well, I suppose that's technically true today, since no other bugger had any.  Oh, well: toffs is careless.  But I did make yet another supermarket visit to get the sugar more cheaply from Fortnums.  Mistake: the queue at the till took best part of a quarter of an hour.

The arthritic hands being as they are, I use a food processor to slice the fruit - once through the medium disk and once through the fine.  It was therefore not a comfort to have the magimix bowl give up the ghost when I was preparing a leek and spud blanquette last week.  Well, the replacement bowl arrived this morning while I was scouring the Home Counties for Seville oranges, so I'm all set for an early start tomorrow.  Except for the small matter of getting the preserving pan down from the garage loft.

Our other entertainment at the moment is interviewing tarmac fettlers.  Our driveway shows all the signs of having been made in a hurry by Wimpey 36 years ago, with quite a bit of settlement and cracking.  A drain top now stands proud, and we're afraid that visitors will trip on it.  The first punter came in with an eye-watering estimate for what sounds like a thorough job.  Yesterday's proposed a quick and dirty approach, and we await his estimate.  Thoroughly confused, we've sent for two more, and hope to have decided by this time next week.  Ah, the joys of home ownership.