A Cheesy Victory...or Not...

scone
I made scones yesterday.

That may seem insignificant to you but there's a reason I'm telling you this.

I've had problems making scones in the past. My mother and both my sisters can make magnificent scones. Me? I make hard, flat ones....scones akin to paperweights, river stones, whatever...you know, the type you break your teeth on. I am the only female in my family that can't make the damn things. I won't be asking my brother if he can ...the possibility of hearing him say "Yes" will just ruin my scone-esteem through and through.

I have woken up on previous days and in true positive-affirmation fashion have recited "This morning I am going to make scones...and they are going to be GOOD!"

They never are.

Yesterday I tried a new recipe my sister gave me last weekend. Alice rang while I was in the middle of kneading the dough...some of you may recall that Alice's partner is my ex-husband...I said to her "Tell him I'm making scones." He came back with "So she's learnt how to make them then?" See? It's been almost 9 years since we lived in the same house and even he still remembers.

But...yesterday I made scones...and they really were good. They looked fantastic...they smelled fantastic...and both boys "ooohed and aaahed" with appropriate enthusiasm after I insisted they come and gaze upon my little trophies.

Last night as Cameron was getting himself some supper, I went through to the kitchen to make a coffee:

"How come you aren't eating the cheese scones?"
"Eh?...oh, well...I..."
"Did you not like them? I thought they turned out pretty well today."
"It's not that Mum."
"Don't save my feelings, just say it.."
"I just think they're too good to be eaten at this time of night."
*I turn slowly and look pointedly at him*
"Aw Mum, don't look at me when I'm telling you shit like that."

Not exactly the special scone moment I've been searching so long for.

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