The Machinist and middle daughter have the last of the coffee beans. (First up, first served). Eldest daughter and number one son settle for instant coffee.
The toasted raisin bread pops up, and number one son starts to butter his piece. We sit together at the kitchen table. The ladies are dressed in overalls, for a hard day in the workshop. Pretty hair combs and red lipstick, with blue logo workshirts and metal capped boots.
The workshop crew leave the kitchen. "Have a nice day at the office, dears". I can't help myself.
I load up the faithful old Simpson washing machine and turn it on. Then, moving quickly through the front room and the family room, picking up, making neat, fluffing cushions, taking away used dishes from last night. Open all the curtains, and windows throughout the living areas. The lace instantly billows with the gentle and (gratefully) cool breeze.
Then outside to fetch the washing in off the washing line, leaving it ready for the day's load.
When the washing machine is full, on goes the second-hand commercial dishwasher, which the Machinist INSISTED I have. I gather the dishes from around the kitchen, scrape them and stack them, ready for their turn in the stainless steel box of diluted bleach, power-spray fury. With each basket load, I challenge myself. Dry and pack away, as well as reload spare basket before wash cycle is complete. I win every time!
Washing machine finishes cycle. I put another load on, then peg out clean clothes.
Counter tops now clear and disinfected, I begin making bread. Two loaves today, as Iwill be in the city tomorrow. Number one son comes in, searching for food. He's always hungry. I promise to make him more toast, and to take it out to him. I start that straight away, as I know that production is low when stomachs are low.
While the bread is rising, I take a plate of hot buttered toast out to the workshop. The Machinist is delighted "We didn't have breakfast that long ago...", he muses, as he takes the thickest piece of toast off the plate. I go into the office and check for any business emails while I am in the machine shop. None. The pesky fax machine is still playing up. It won't receive. It will scan, print, copy, send, but not receive. Is it a telephone line or equipment problem? Note to self: try another angle on the fax machine problem. It has to be sorted. This is a business.
Back in the kitchen, I note that the first rising of the bread is complete. The dough is punched, split and rolled into four balls; two for each bread pan. More rising time.
Another load in the washing machine. More clothes to hang outside.
Bread goes in the oven. As it bakes, I chop mushrooms, squares of real butter and add to pan (Jamie forever!).
I then chop green and red capsicums and onions. They go in another pan with olive oil.
Both pans put on high, then turned down to low.
Whisked eggs are added to the capsicum and onion pan and left on low heat.
I carve the bread, but it's 'doughy' in the middle so I have to toast it.
While the bread is toasting, I go out to the front of the workshop and see oldest daughter cleaning stainless steel products. She sees me. I point to the house.
She turns to the rest of the crew. "Lunch!" she cries
Lunch is over, there are dishes to wash, but I really need to hang out more washing.
The Machinist hopes to finish early today, as we are going into the city to pick up second daughter's first car from a migrant family staying in a motel who are leaving the country on Wednesday. Before we go, I have to prepare business papers and summaries, along with application forms for our accountant. I also have to write a few business letters. After we pick up the car, the Machinist will be driving said car back home, along with number one son. Middle daughter and I will be taking our second lesson in Italian.