[Simons] I'd love it, thanks. I like to try new foods, even if the youngest can be a pain in the bum when deciding she doesn't like it before she has tasted it.
[KS] Doing a job you don't like is really hard, so I definitely feel for you.
Mrs Nfras decided to try crocheting. She bought the wool and hooks and stuff. Anyone want some second hand wool and crochet hooks?

Chicken Adobo. I think that's the recipe I used, but there's dozens of variants readily findable online. If I did it again I'd try one of the variants that uses ground pepper rather than peppercorns. But the overnight marinade is definitely a bit to keep in. I got the recipe from a Fillipino Google plusser I used to follow, for whom adobo was a much-loved childhood dish.

The past year has allowed me to ignore the garden to a great extent, but being out of work has forced me at least to plan stuff and mow the grass. The Bismarckette decided that this year's project would be tomatoes, and bought a bunch of grow-stuff necessary for the production of the red veggies-fruit-whatever. They were supposed to grow into big, fat tomatoes, but stubbornly refused to get above the smallish size, and the plants tended to brown, apparently due to a lack of calcium in the soil. This was addressed by decorating the soil with crushed eggshells (Bismarckette, success 0/10) and mixing gardeners chalk into the soil (yours truly, success 10/10). The final crop ended up with a unit price of about three quid, which is about par for the course with the Bismarckette's projects.She was then miffed to see that tomato seeds that Mrs Bismarck had thrown around the side of the house had actually grown into two full-scale tomato plants with absolutely no effort.
We've been here for fifteen years and have finally found out what the tree at the bottom of the garden is. The previous owners planted it, but it was in the shade of a massive Leylandii hedge and grew hardly at all. When we chopped the hedge down a couple of years back (as a result of The Neighbour Who Does Not Like Trees invoking a local by-law that no hedge can be more than one metre 50 tall), the tree took off and this year produced eight fruits which on inspection by the health authorities were pronounced to be quinces. Quinces are massive fruits and have a very strong pear-like perfume. Mrs Bismarck has Plans for them, though what remains to be seen.
Funnily enough, The Neighbour Who Does Not Like Trees was hoist by his own petard this year, when the inheritance of the next-door house was sorted out. The old Italian Neighbour Who Grows All His Own Food died at an advanced age last year, and his son of 75 years turned up with wife and dog. It seemed that the laurel hedge forming the border between their gardens was a matter of inches inside the wrong garden (I was called out to verify the position of the boundary markers and swear on oath that the small fence between us was mine, and not his), and he was forced to dig the lot up. They don't joke about property limits around here, I can tell you.
Now I have to research in depth the pruning of quince trees, nut trees, and figs, and also think of something to do with The Shady Patch Where Nothing Grows under The Neighbour Who Doesn't Like Christmas's hedge. Which I did not pay to have trimmed, that did NOT happen.

I'm one of the lucky ones who (a) still has a secure job and (b) can work from home. But the downside is that the WFH has been much harder work than NWFH, as I have had to adapt a lot of materials and plans for distance/online learning. My video editing skills are improving, but that's about it. Though I have welcomed the opportunity to cook and bake more: those are not new skills for me, but in recent years I had been doing less and less due to being time-poor and having lots of good restaurants and cafés nearby.

[Bis] wow - a Quince! That's quite a thing to have. They are rare.
A couple or four years ago I did a fruit-tree pruning course with the local protected landscape foundation (in Dutch - I was v proud of myself) and did a few volunteer January pruning sessions in a heritage orchard. The point was to get myself out of the house on January Saturdays and get more involved in Dutch stuff. Anyway. I've successfully pruned our baby fruit trees (they all came from Aldi) and the neighbour's pear tree (which is much bigger and gave a bumper crop as a result - phew). I imagine quinces are similar in that fruit-bearing wood is last summer's growth so you only cut off enough twigs to make sure that every fruit-bearing stick is strong enough to carry the weight and that every twig can see the sun. The Dutch are pretty good at growing fruit, so maybe I've learned the high-production method, but there you go. There'll be videos on YouTube I'm sure. And it's coming up to tree-pruning season - when the trees are dormant and you really don't feel like going outside and stretching up so that your vest becomes untucked, baring your midriff flesh to the elements. Or maybe that's just me. Good luck!