The pressure is on

Baking for 2 demanding housemates is hard enough. Especially when one bakes better than you do and is proud of it.

However, all that pales in comparison to the task I've just set myself.

See, in order to thank our GP whom we've been working with for the past year, I decided, against my better judgement, to bake this for him. And this coming from a guy who can't make bread pudding to save his life.

Twice baked biscuits. Not too hard-sounding, but it took what seemed a mountain of sugar, twice as much flour and more butter than we'd eat in a month. And Tesco raspberries.

With that much invested in this, I'd be to blame if things didn't go according to plan. Thankfully, the final baking process is underway, and I'm checking things every few minutes, which wont do wonders for the final product, but its better than burnt biscotti.

Aside, Partition is well worth a watch. Though seeing native Indians speak in English wont do wonders for setting the mood, this movie manages to pull it off quite well. And if there's nothing else that interests you about the separation of Pakistan and India, or the atrocities of the time, there's always Kristin Kreuk.

Looking around my room

There's a lot of stuff to clean up. My cupboard is full of IMU notes, which surprise, surprise, I did end up needing at different times throughout the year. Books take up most of the remaining cupboard space, of these, the most dusty are the anatomy and pathology books, both rejected in lieu of oxford clinical handbook and a bit of paediatrics and obsgyn here and there.

Vikram Chandra's Sacred Games has taken the main book spot on my desk, previously filled by Pretty Girl in Crimson Rose(8) , Jesus MD, Ian Rankin's A Good Hanging, Coughlin's No More Christian Nice Guy and Strobel's The Case for a Creator. Yes, I like reading. The latest Harry Potter installment will be next on the list, can't wait till Saturday.

Then there's my laptop, behind which is squidged all the other paraphernalia necessary to ensure my multimedia needs are satisfied. Speaking of which, my laptop is close to 3 years old and still running sound as a bell! HP Compaq isn't too bad a company to trust.

Clothes have never been a big part of me, though I admit to feeling a warm glow inside whenever someone says 'You don't look too bad yourself.' And I realised; I DO have a comb. Found it the other day wrapped up in a plastic bag along with other stuff that I didn't unpack for the year. So there, Jack. Now I just need to learn how to use it.

This blog is becoming more inward looking by the day.

The feeling of not knowing how the future will pan out.

Of keeping the faith yet still being nervous and doubtful.

Understanding the truth yet finding it hard to apply.

Of liking where I am but knowing I must move on.

In many ways, it would seem I've not grown up since the heady days of IMU.

Yet decisions wait to be made, a five-year mission remains unfulfilled, and at 23 years and counting, all I can come up with is

Another introspective post without much meaning and more than a little bad prose.


Finally, plans for today (cos even unstructured lives need planning):
Church first thing, then to a heavy lunch at the Red Lion. Home at 2 in time to catch the Wimbledon singles final (I'm behind Nadal all the way), then its mucking about on a paper till its time to try fruit crumble for dinner.

And for some reason the title doesnt seem to want to appear.

Watching Wimbledon

It's been a while since I spent so much time watching TV. Watching players like Marion Bartoli and Djokovic play against household names like Nadal and Williams was fun. It's been fun for me to support the underdog everytime there's a competition going on, and this Wimbledon seems to have been full of underdogs taking charge.

I feel like getting out on a court and hitting some balls now.

***

After watching the women's finals, I like the way the players leave the court, a long walk to the back of centre court, exiting through the open doors, for all the world like a couple of friends coming in for afternoon tea after a leisurely hit. Wimbledon certainly is different from every other competition out there.

Now for the men's tmrow.

You know that feeling you get

For those of us lucky enough to have a Christmas tree when we were younger, and presents under it to boot, you'll be familiar with that feeling. Waking up on Christmas morning, with all the promise of unopened delights waiting for you downstairs. You spend some time thinking about what you'll be getting. Would it be the toy you've been pining for since the beginning of the year, or would it turn out to be something else equally as exciting? (If it were me at this point, I'd be wanting something from the transformers line!)

Today, a random comment in church went: The word 'hope' brings to mind children waking up on Christmas morning.

That feeling...of knowing there'll be something waiting for you. You're not quite sure what it'll turn out to be, but that it'll be great nonetheless, because your parents only want you to have the best. It may not be what you longed for, but something totally new and different instead. But you know its there, just waiting for you to take it, unwrap and enjoy it.


"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." Heb 11:1