Flapjacks

When I lived in The Worst Digs In The Whole World, Leigh used to cheer us up on a Sunday evening by making flapjacks (dropscones, I'd call them, but chef's prerogative). She would slave over the stove, frying them up. I would stand at the counter or sit at the horrifying glass table with the saggy chairs, and gobble them up as quickly as she cooked them. I really want some damn flapjacksdropscones.