Chapter V: In which Beck and Christopher Robin find a heffalump in the kitchen

I made these tasty-looking pies last night from a book of old Welsh recipes that Hubby's parents (who live in Wales) gave us years ago. Unfortunately they only look tasty. In reality they're as boring as batshit. The pastry crust went well - a thick globby shortcrust that was so rich and crunchy - yum. Sadly, though, the recipe assumed too much knowledge. Knowledge I clearly don't have. It specifies that you need cooked minced lamb, but doesn't tell you how it should be coooked. And I can't make a decent savoury mince to save myself - it's completely beyond me. This is a real shame as I suspect the pies would have been great when the writers made them. Everything else out of that book has been brilliant.

On the up-side I've been reading this great book, The Time Traveller's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. It's a little bit sci fi and a little bit romance. A guy suffers from a bizarre genetic condition where he is shot into the past or future without warning every now and again. On one of his trips into the past he meets his future wife when she was only six. It's totally implausible, but the way she writes it allows you to believe it completely.