Had a couple of weeks in Spain recently. Love it, love Spain, the people!

"Excuse me, are we baking bread at all?" I was asked by some of the early secondary aged youngsters. "Are you sure?" I asked. "OK, half 11 tomorrow."

Half eleven came I wandered down with my Ikea bag jammed with flours, yeast, salt, bowls, scales & sophisticated olives, sun dried tomatoes & walnuts.

"Is this where there's baking lessons?" Asked two more young lads, 8ish? "Um, yes!"

We started. They spoke metric, & didn't know there was any other weighing language.

"Hands clean?" Two aspirant bakers skid-addled & returned for inspection.

"Right, when I'm talking you have to listen! What did I just say?"

"Scuse me, can I have a go?" We were a quintet.

Flour weighed, yeast, salt, water in millilitres (explaining to "helping" Dad what tepid meant!).

Then the kneading! Some had more mix on fingers & faces than in the bowl or the kneading!

"OK, that's the end of the first stage, pool time!" "Excuse me, there's been seven stages so far', observed one of my class..."First, we weighed the flour, then the yeast..." I hurriedly conceded.

Sometime later..."Stage Two" was announced.

The dough had proved. I'd forgotten about olives etc. In they went, slightly out of order. We started the second mini knead.

"Now, the hardest shape to go for is plaits!" Plaits it was! As a Dad of a daughter I dextrously intertwined the sausage shaped strands.

Later they were oven ready & inserted. "Now, we'll have to go & ask my wife to tap your bottoms." Chuckles all round.

Sometime later. Bottoms tapped to check loaves baked, five plaited loaves appeared to the great satisfaction/shock of all.

"What we doing next?" One Paul Hollywood Jnr asked? We're Billy's Baking Club!

It'd taken 3+ hours, the area was a mess! faces! hands & clothes were "dusty "!

We'd had a great time. Not an electronic gadget in sight!