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An empty milk bottle.

Right. I'm about to delve right into a First World Problem. But, as Jennifer Fulwiler says, we do live in the First of inevitable.
I did finally make some flapjack today. But it was an emergency measure against domestic disaster rather than the beginnings of the baking adventures I've been trying to embark on for a long time. I knew the day was not going to go 'swimmingly' when Isaac woke, on and off, between 4 and 5.45am today, as he is wont to do, and just when I had drifted back off to sleep Gracie pinged awake. I'd been feeling fairly hungry for a while (as you get when you have a little nursling) and I'd been thinking to myself that if I could just get downstairs and get a big bowl of Alpen (nice and sugary), and crawl back to bed with a cup of tea, whilst sticking on Clifford's Puppy Days (Gracie's flavour of the month TV programme), then I could try and start the day again. What happened, in reality, is that I went downstairs t…

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