debbie's beer bread recipe

3 cups of flour
3 tablespoons of sugar
3 teaspoons of baking powder
1 can/bottle of beer
50gm of butter

sift flour and baking powder together

add sugar

add beer

mix

put into greased bread tin

dollop the butter over the top

bake at 160 celsius / 325 fahrenheit for 50-60 mins

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Well, I don't really want to talk about my trip, or about work. Not because of anything bad, but because today I didn't have to think about them.

So.

Let's try this.

Playing Bob Dylan as I feed Matthew sitting on my knee, he grasps for the bottle, little hands wrapping around it and pulling it close, and sucking so hungrily, little slurping noises of satisfaction, and Dylan's getting booed in concert as Matthew spills over my knee - sharp smell of milk - so I call Deb in to listen to him being called "judas", Dylan that is, but she misses it, doing washing, and Dylan tells the Band to "play fucking loud" so that's all in my head as I walk downtown later while Debbie's getting a sharp haircut - short, jagged edges - from Gayle who gives good hair, walking downtown with John that is, my best friend who's just come back from London for a few months, as I push Matthew and keep peeking in to see him sucking a thumb, scowling, drooling, you know, baby stuff, and a little while later Deb's finished and we're eating chicken or beef satay for lunch and it strikes me that John has no literalness, he's all irony, sarcasm, distance and weaving of obscure cultural and/or artistic allusions - like, "The Prisoner", who, now, remembers seeing that? - and as I said to Debbie later, "can you imagine him getting unalloyed (yes, I used that word) joy from something?", but generally he's cool, and I play the games, and he is my best friend, so, anyway, we picked up some beer on the way home, steam beer, cos Debbie has this recipe for beer bread and she did make some, but, and I think this is something she will do only the once, only after mistaking her teaspoons and tablespoons and fortunately figuring out before the said bread went into the oven, that 3 tablespoons of baking powder was, ummm, way too much, but the bread itself was delicious, still warm with butter dripping and a sweet tangy taste, and later laying in the sun playing with Matthew and going for fish and chips down the road after he's gone to sleep, and Deb talks to me, sitting here at the computer, and we bring up Beth, and the past, and online friends, and wonder what progress we've made, but you know, more than talking, it's the sitting close in the warm evening, and the sharing of milk and cookies that tells me we're fine and she reads this as I write and tells me something good and lays her head on my shoulder.