Zimtsternes are cinnamon cookies traditionally eaten during Christmas but I decided to make them one rainy Sunday afternoon last month. I thought, "Why not? I haven't baked anything in centuries. Must polish what meagre skills I possess..." So I set about with a premonition of delicious cookies decided in my head. The recipe I fished out from my book of recipes which I'd gathered over some years; the ingredients numbered 5. It should be easy - doesn't matter that I've never made Zimtsternes in my life.

The cookies ideally look like this. Mine were different since I don't have a star shaped cookie cutter.

But let me go back to the beginning. I mixed all the ingredients in about 2 minutes but started yelling for assistance in no time. The dough was too wet and sticky - how could I possibly roll it out?! Mother came to the rescue and demonstrated how much sense she has and how little I have. She simply offered me some plain flour. I made a protest inwardly as the recipe didn't call for flour at all but I knew I should listen to her. It worked. I managed to get a somewhat less sticky consistency so I followed Mother's next instruction as well. I put the dough into the freezer even though no mention of that was made in the instructions. In 20 minutes I had the dough rolled out and cut.

The first batch turned out fine even though some of the cookies proved to be a handful when I tried removing them from the tray. As a consequence, they had bits of parchment paper stuck to their backs.

Still, I was somewhat surprised that they were something of a success. Mother said she liked them. So did Sister.

Bursting with premature pride, I put the second batch into the oven and went about the business of clearing up instead of sitting in front of the oven and watching the cookies being baked. I think 15 minutes went by and, yes, I got carried away with the cleaning and washing up until Mother pointed out (from her bedroom) that she could smell something burning.

Moral: Never follow recipes blindly. And never do the washing and cleaning as if your life depended on it.

Switch off those lights. Vote Earth.

I'm thinking of what to do with this blog. I can't be unnatural and put up things I like from YouTube on my blog (see useless previous post), or some other random link that I find dreadfully interesting. I also do not come from the school of phloggers, those individuals who think photographs are literally worth the proverbial thousand words. I used to think I had some slightly interesting things to say about my experiences. But I can't seem to find anything interesting about anything these days. Perhaps my mind is alerting me to the dangers of stagnation by refusing to let me write or even read. I didn't read anything but one book, The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett, in 2 months... That's sick and horrible to ponder. I have so many books which I excitedly bought from BORDERS that I haven't even flipped through - and I can't be bothered.

I need to find a new job. A new vocation. Something that seriously makes me think about other people and myself. I want to be useful. And I want to go to the beach.

I love you too Emma but Stephen is too, too fine. *tragic sigh*

Watch all sketches from the Cambridge Footlights Revue here.