Now this is a real experience! I’ve two crashing needs–to make bread and to move to my jazz. They’re both easy and hugely satisfyin’–but I crave the best day and today is it. It has to be a day when the world doesn’t move–at least towards me. No great demands–lay the fire in the woodburning stove,  feed  the dogs and cats, take out the rubbish for collection by the  vernacular council binmen. It must be a day when the house is empty and (I can listen to my favourite dixieland jazz ar 19000 decibel [or something close] or at least  loud enough to rattle the windows. It must be a cold, grey day when the heating is on ad the storage heaters are releasing their quiet, gentle warmth. If the sun shines, it’s a bad day for bread because I must go outside and ‘farm” on our 45 acre [18.7 hrctare] farm–a large garden really with the usual–grass, trees, sheep or cows and rain!. By the way, it’s not true that it rains all of the time in Wales. I cannot understand people who laugh on the phone when I say: ‘Hello. This is Allen Jacobs in Wales where the sun shines all of the time.’ Seems unkind– this world where people laugh at my almost true proclamation.

This is fun but a bit silly when I’ve just said that a handmakin’breadday must be conduced by the weather. Oh well, lets get onto the unfolding of bread before, through and after becoming bread.