Yeah, I can be a bit overdramatic at times, hey? 
Every day, or, more accurately, most days, I make a batch of wild yeast (sourdough that’s not sour) sweet buns for breakfast for Fahim and I. I make up a batch of the dough every three days, then in the evening, shape 1/3 of the dough into buns and leave for an overnight rise.
The next morning, I bake the buns on the stove. After all, it’s just a small batch.
You’re probably asking yourself, "Where are the bunnies" Ah, but, you see, it’s Fahim, renaming things as usual. Those buns – those are the bunnies. 
This batch rose rather, ah, more than normal. They didn’t double. Nooooooo. They didn’t triple. Nooooooo. They quadrupled.
And then they fell a bit during baking. No big surprise, really.
But they were still soft and fluffy and, yeah. *nods head*
So I bring the buns upstairs for us to eat. And the brownouts begin, which resets our router, so Internet keeps getting interrupted. "Bloody Hell!" says Fahim.
Then he reaches for the plate of buns. And looks at them. And says….
"Bloody hell!"
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