8am: Wake up. Eat breakfast (if you must know, a muffin spread with the last of the crunchy peanut butter, and a bowl of yogurt topped with granola that you should have made yourself instead of buying). Oh, wait. Get dressed, then eat breakfast. Naked muffin eating isn’t so much de rigueur when you live with a friend.
9am: Mum arrives to see your finally-decorated room (methinks you won’t be surprised to learn this involves a framed stylistic drawing of a peach and an old-school-French chocolate poster). Ask her whether it’s okay to leave eggs out of the fridge for six hours. She says yes. Forget to take eggs out of fridge.
9:15am: Get driven to doctor’s surgery. Realise you left your glasses at home and things are rather blurry. Awesome mother offers to drive back and get them for you.
9:45am: Finish at doctor’s, rejoin mother in car. Mother hands over glasses, and mentions that she also took two eggs out of the fridge. Big love.
10am: Enter office at uni. INTERNET! (I mean, prepare for tutorials.)
11am: Tutorial. (Happy times.)
12noon: Tutorial. (Happy times.)
1pm: Lunch and various errands.
3:40: Break egg whites into bowl, then realise you don’t have normal caster sugar. Figure raw caster sugar is pretty much the same thing. (Hint: it isn’t. Moisture = big hollow meringues.)
4ish: Finally finish beating egg whites and sugar to glorious glossy sweet mountain of meringue-y-goodness with electric hand beaters. Dollop meringue onto baking tray in three portions. Pop in oven.
4:05pm: Hover over sink “cleaning” beaters and bowl with spoon and your mouth. Less mess to clean up = clever, right?
4:10pm: Vacuum, clean, tidy.
4:50pm: Realise this still-fairly-new-to-you oven is not so reliable. Meringue is rather brown. Turn oven off, figure The German won’t know any better.
5:30pm: Make shepherd’s pie with kangaroo mince. Aussie Aussie Aussie…?
7pm: Read a bit.
7:45pm: Hello The German!
8pm: Buy wine.
8:30pm: Eat shepherd’s pie.
9pm: Bring out meringues. Wine makes you admit that they aren’t quite right, instead of allowing you to continue with your earlier plan to pretend all is well. The German laughs about the enormous hollow cave in the middle of each meringue. Stare him down while telling him that they’re “rustic”.
9:05pm: All errors can be hidden with cream, strawberries, and kiwi fruit, right? Even if The German sliced said fruit strangely.
9:10pm: Pavolvas are divinely tasty with the perfect blend of melt-in-the-mouth crust and almost-chewy bottom.
9:30pm: Try the improvised cake that The German made. Decide lychees, peaches, sour cherries and coconut cream should be added to every cake recipe from now on.
9:50pm: Discover mutual peanut butter love.
10pm: Do something you never thought you’d do. That is to say, open up your the-company-closed-down-therefore-no-more-can-ever-be-found-one-and-only jar of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Peanut Butter.
And that, my friends, is how you make pavolva for a German.