Setting the wheels in motion for a Michelin star

How can a whole day disappear with there to be little or nothing to show for it? For much of the day, I seemed to be chained to the laptop, paying occasional visits to the craptop to check on files, etc. Among the wonderful accomplishments in my day were the following: I paid my taxes; I failed once again to buy plane tickets, despite spending hours on the various websites (I cannot bring myself to use Air Canada, that story is finished for the time being); I updated my accounting software; I did some programme cataloguing; I paid my accountant; I transferred money between various accounts to try and make sure I had enough to cover the taxes and accountant). Oh, who says modern life cannot bring joy?
 
Later on, I found the summer camp Ottawacker Jr. had wanted – and booked him in for a week. Doing what. You might ask? Well, hot on the heels of Crime Scene Kitchen, he asked to go to a cookery camp, focusing on desserts. While realising this is like putting Boris Johnson in a room full of women, it is great that he is excited about it and it might lead to him developing some non-football-related artistic talents.
 
In the evening, because I am me, I walked down to the kitchen, poured myself a Ricard, looked at Ottawacker Jr. and told him he was cooking dinner. The look of shock on his face was a joy to behold. I gave him instructions, showed him where the food was, warned him about cutting onions (“not many goalkeepers have nine fingers”) and disappeared upstairs to finish what I was doing. We ate in the garden. Did you hear that? It’s April 24 and we had dinner outside. At last, global warming has a use.
 
Post-dinner – which was, if interested, a variation on the Danish “bixemad” (pronounced bix’eh’my), replacing the beef leftovers with chicken, that we call in our oh-so-hilarious fashion “chixemad”, and actually pretty good for a first attempt with little or no instruction or supervision – we finally got round to our traditional Easter Egg hunt in the garden. Apparently, when it is not covered in snowdrifts and squirrel turds, we have a garden. The results matched last year’s results. And yes, you can take that how you want. At least Ottawacker Jr. enjoyed it. I love that he remains, despite everything, capable of finding joy in being a child.