During the week my Dad went to an office. So time lasted longer on Saturdays.

Mom and Kim slept. Dad and I got the baking tray out of the side cupboard. The can of biscuits relented with a muffled pop. Dad arranged them on the tray, though not as perfectly as Mom. She always laughed that he could burn water.

The light from the stove shone on everything we needed to see. Dad buttered the first biscuit and drizzled it with honey.