Wholemeal sourdough

If I spent even a short hour googling around researching how to make sourdough bread properly  I'd be able to make much better bread.  That's not the point for me.  I am determined not to be systematic.  This is an area of my life where I don't want to be organised and I resolutely refuse to aim for perfection.  I am learning to revel in the safe unpredictability. We have learned that it will taste good no matter how disastrously it turns out otherwise, so I can play and experiment, free from any worries of success or failure.

The starter came out of the freezer on Sunday morning and I fed and talked to it and had it on the radiator until Monday evening, when we realised I wouldn't be able to bake on Tuesday. So it went back in the fridge and came out again on Tuesday night, when I fed it and talked to it again and left it on the dining room table near, but not on, the radiator ready for Wednesday morning.

This one was meant to be with strong white and the fag-end of a bag of rye flour.  But it was an unusual brand of flour and I didn't recognise the colour of the bag and by the time I'd up-ended it into the bowl with the starter I realised it was wholemeal.  Hey ho, so it became wholemeal and the fag-end of the bag of rye.  I added extra water because it's wholemeal and left it on the radiator all day.  I set it at 8am and we cooked it at 8pm.  I gave it 55 minutes at 200 but really it could have had another 10 minutes because even so the middle is pretty dense.  It feels exactly like a brick and cutting it requires a sharp breadknife and sturdy wrist muscles, and steel-capped boots are recommended as a Health and Safety precaution.  But it tastes bloody good.