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Half a maltloaf. With butter. It was last night, actually. But the guilt is still with me. My MIL brought it from the UK when she came at christmas, but didn't tell us -I just found it in a bag with loads of packs of cookies. I wasn't sure if it would still be any good because it was squished almost flat and a few weeks past the sell-by date, so I figured there was only one way to find out.
(It was good -I would probably have had the other half for breakfast this morning if beest had not gallantly rescued me by consuming the other half last night)
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The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity Amelia Earhart
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