If you were to turn up at my house today I would make you a cup of tea and say in an apologetic voice, "I'm sorry, the best I can offer you is a Superwine, I haven't had time to bake this week."
If you were standing in my kitchen I'm sure you would look at the detritus around us and say, "What? No baking?" and then be so amazed by my tea making (take cup, insert tea bag, add just-boiled water) that you wouldn't think any less of me.
However, since you're not here (and in all honesty, I am quite relieved) I feel I have to offer you some other distractions. I could entertain you with scurrilous gossip, such as telling you about my discovery that a food writer I previously admired has shamelessly ripped off Bill Granger in a national newspaper, but I think it's best done in person so I can point out the similarities between Bill's book and the recipe stuck to my fridge door. Instead, I'd like to tell you about the baking I could have done.
If you had turned up at breakfast time (and I had been really, really organised) we could have listened to Moaning Report and eaten these spiced sweet potato doughnuts to cheer ourselves up.
I also really wish I'd made these incredible miso cookies, for then we could have sat on the back steps and drunk some jasmine tea after I hung out the washing. You could have told me where to plant the lemon verbena and fig trees languishing on the deck, too.
If I didn't have loads of work to do this afternoon (and a child sleeping upstairs, and a man delivering a skip any time now) then I could whip out to the grocer in the eastern suburbs where I saw that big basket of kumquats and we could have these kumquat friands for afternoon tea.
And if I hadn't given up chocolate I could indulge my inner Heston and make this chocolate mousse for pudding.
But, as it is, I haven't had time to do any of those things. I hope you'll forgive me. Come back next week - I'm sure I'll be more organised. No, really, I will...