So, there I was with a loaf and two braids of perfectly risen, beautiful cinnamon bread. I went to put them into the oven when my mum said,
"Oh, yeah. The bottom element of the oven is broken. We can't cook these."
So I had to go to my neighbor's house and cook them there instead, thereby depriving me of having my own house smelling of heavenly homemade white bread. Bummer and a half.
Oh, well. Still therapeutic, still delicious. :D