Having a dog but barking yourself

I seem to have become a baker over the last couple of days. "What is the point of being married to a chef if you then have to make your own bread?" I hear you say. Well, despite some random award in bread making and a tendency to panic if we run out of wheat-based products, he just doesn't seem to like making bread. I love it. All that kneading is good for the soul. My only problem is that I have an intense dislike of wet dough under my fingernails, so I have to use a wooden spoon until the dough gets to the 'workable' phase (it would be so much easier if I was just scared of spiders).
Anyway, today I have made two seeded walnut loaves and I am giving one to my brother and sister-in-law as they are having a bit of a rubbish time (obviously not really rubbish or I would be doing something more helpful than making bread).
This morning started with breakfast at the Greyhound with Scott and Jason. Always a welcome start to a Sunday and a chance to digest the papers and discuss the main topics of the day. Well, that is what Scott and Jason do. I amuse Scarlett with unwanted sections of the paper whilst I eat my eggs on toast before they get cold and try to remember if I have an opinion on anything outside the overuse of Calpol and working mothers.