After yesterday's post, this is rather predictable.
Lady Magnon couldn't find our toasting fork anywhere. She knew exactly where it should have been, but it wasn't there.
She was on her hands and knees looking under cupboards, under the stove, in boxes etc, as I rummaged through drawer after drawer to no avail.
The problem was that our outdoor gas bottle had frozen-up over night, and it had made us adopt our 'pioneer back-woodsman' approach to life. For her breakfast, Lady M was frying bacon over the fire, and wanted toast. Rather than use the electric toaster, she wanted fire-toasted toast. But we couldn't find the wretched fork anywhere.
Call it old age, or old-timers, but we eventually found it just a few inches from where is should have been; hiding behind an ancient wooden chopping block. You could have heard the cheers down in Toulouse.
Our old toasting fork is a beauty. It's made from solid wire, and, as you can probably see from the photo, has a simple extending mechanism so as not to burn yourself.
We don't use it very often, but we really missed it yesterday when we couldn't find it.
All is now well with the world (until Friday).