Seed Cake

Up with the lark this morning (the Magpie, actually, scruffy old thing). I took the car to the MOT centre and it passed with flying colours; when I got home I made a seed cake with caraway seeds in it because I'm going to Joan's for tea. She has made some cakes and we are going to wear dresses and sip tea daintily with our leathery artist's hands clumsily grasping the china.
I wrecked my hands by being a printer- I had ingrained black ink for years round my nails, and the turps and swarfega that I used to try to clean it off with dried my skin to the texture of toilet paper.
McMum and McDad gave me a food blender for my 21st birthday. I was very disappointed because I had wanted a scooter but that's a very expensive thing to want (I have a motorbike now but I'll tell you about that another time!). I used the blender to make paper at art college for printing my etchings on to. When I tried to clean the blender with white spirit, it melted into a very interesting shape that was interesting to look at, but no good for blending in.
I also am living testament to the acid-proof tendencies of Doctor Marten's boots, because I had the same pair for three years and used to splash nitric acid on them regularly (that's what you use to etch on zinc plates) and they never wore out. Eventually, my big toes poked through the front, but I have Scottish feet and any Scotsman will tell you our feet are made of steel, strengthened by a diet of Irn Bru, deep-fried Mars bars and Haggis.