happy dance
On its way from Amazon.
are you looking at my bird?
Next door is having their extension refettled – this is an irritating process, given we work in the room just above where it’s being done, but no matter. Steve the builder is fascinated by the cats, and the other day when I went out, he said “that golden one’s caught a bird”.
This seemed unlikely, to be honest – Iggy has never been much of a one for hunting, and he’s a bit of a creaky old man these days, but Steve the builder was emphatic. And indeed, Iggy was under the patio table with an unfortunate ex-bird. Apparently he moved “very quickly”.
Having caught the bird, he didn’t seem quite sure what to do next. No matter, really, as the thieving Ron nicked it out from under Iggy’s paws, and had it away on his toes.
Not really the sort of behaviour we would wish for, you might think, and you’d be right. Ron scampered around the garden with it firmly clenched in his jaws for a bit, while we failed to retrieve it (as usual). Eventually he reappeared without it, so we assume it was scoffed.
He really is a dreadful beast.
Originally posted at the Jordan Cats.
bramble and nectarine flan
Pete picked the first of the brambles on Saturday – we didn’t get much from them the year before, as the landlord hacked the plants right back, but they’ve returned to glory this year. I must clear some freezer space, because they are truly delicious.
There weren’t all that many, and there was also half a pack of frozen pastry left from the walnut and stilton flan, and there were some nectarines in the fruit bowl.
Pete rolled the pastry into the rectangular flan tin, and tipped the baking beans straight on top. It’s a trick everyone does once, I think, so just as well to get it over. We fished them out, added some greaseproof paper and put them back. Blind baked it at gas 6 for 15 minutes.
In the meantime, I put about half a packet of digestive bikkits in a plastic bag, and whacked them with a rolling pin, all the time muttering the name of my least favourite client under my breath. Added a couple of tablespoons of ground almonds.
Into a shallow pan went blackberries, 2 fat nectarines and a cinnamon stick (well, why not?) and some water, and I cooked this down until the nectarines were soft, and I had a nice brambly syrup. The nectarines were fished out, set aside to cool, and then cut into neat(ish) slices.
The digestive/ground almond was spread across the pastry base, and then the brambly mixture poured over the top, and the nectarine slices placed over that. Then it went back in the oven for 15 minutes.
When it came out, it looked nice, but a bit dry. Pete said “add some alcohol”, so we poured a shot glassful of Cointreau over the top. It was still a bit dry, but we didn’t care – we soused it in double cream and scoffed it anyway. It rapidly became known as Cointreau Pie.
a soggy weekend
By mac and has no comments yet.
We still weren’t well, really, so not much was done. Friday night saw us at a “bring your own” supper party. We brought chicken wings, and a stilton and walnut quiche, and just as well, as nobody else had brought anything apart from a bowl of rice salad and some puddings! We didn’t stay long, as perlmonger was drooping; I bore him home, and he was in bed by 9 p.m., and fast asleep when I went to check on him at 10.
On Saturday we did pretty much nothing, apart from an amble up to the Local Shoppe for some essentials – veg, milk, cream, big box of Maltesers … We spent the afternoon slumped in front of the television, with laptops tohand. Managed to construct a rather splendid pork stir fry, and a nectarine and bramble flan, of which more later.
Sunday dawned bright and clear ^H^H dreary and moist once more, but we dragged ourselves up to Ashton Court for an event put on by the council to celebrate 50 years of public ownership (or something). I’m ashamed to say we took the car, even though it’s only about half an hour’s walk, but we still weren’t feeling great, and getting caught in the rain was something I’d rather avoid. In the event, it’s just as well …
It was damp when we left, started raining just as we arrived at about 12.30, and *pissing* it down when we left at 4. But we had an enjoyable time – the raptor chap was terrific, despite his faux mediaeval costume; he really engaged with his audience, particularly the children, and some small persons (and indeed, one larger one) got a change to get up very close and personal with various birds.
We consumed roast pig innabun with [whisper] chips, and then had a cuppatea and a piece of very nice walnut and coffee cake. When we got home we had to hang the waterproofs up over the bath to drip, and my boots might be dry now. Cheese scones for supper and copious mugs of tea.
And now, Monday. Bah.
apricot and blueberry upside down cake
We had some apricots going wrinkly, and some blueberries that needed using up. I halved the apricots and removed the stones, then put them and the blueberries in a shallow pan with a little water, some honey, and a good pinch of ginger. Simmered them gently for about five minutes.
I beat 125g of butter, 200g of granulated sugar and a slosh of vanilla essence until light and fluffy, then added 40g ground almonds, 125ml of yogurt, 125ml of milk and two eggs, and beat again. Then folded in 150g plain flour and a teaspoon of baking powder (I never use self raising).
I put the fruit in the bottom of an 8" silicone sponge pan, and poured the cake batter on top. Cooked at gas 4/180˚C for about 45 minutes.
This would work well with any soft fruit, I think – it certainly worked very well with blueberries and apricots!
originally posted at Reactive Cooking
impulse soup
The weather was unseasonal and rainy, and forecast to be like that for the week. Neither P nor I are feeling particularly well, either, and so we decreed Soup.
There wasn’t much in – we’ve cancelled the box from Box Bush Farm, as we weren’t happy with the service. The last box we had contained spinach, lettuce, a limp cabbage and some chard, and two bunches of carrots – not very varied, we thought. There were a few apples and bananas too, but we have been disappointed. So we are currently veg boxless until I decide whether to give Abel and Cole a try. Anyway, I digress.
We had lots of carrots. Lots. But not much else. So I sliced them very thin with the fancy addon for the Kitchenaid mixer, and hurled an onion in there too, and sweated them down in some oil. Rummaging in the fridge brought forth a jug of stock from the Moroccan rack of lamb I did last week, so that went in. And a carton of creamed tomatoes, and a mugful or so of lentils. Left it to cook for about 90 minutes.
Lovely – the stock gave it a lovely spicy flavour. And it will do us for the week.
originally posted at Reactive Cooking
from Galway to Graceland
| There are three artistes we will travel to see, and the fantabulous Richard Thompson is one. This tour, the closest he came to us here in North Somerset was the Pontardawe Arts Centre just north of Swansea – a doddle of a trip across the Severn Bridge and straight down the M4. Tickets were obtained.
We decided to skive an afternoon off, and sallied forth in a westerly direction at about 14:30. We came off the motorway after Cardiff, and found a sign to Ogmore Castle so went to have a look. We found a lovely derelict building, on the banks of a small, shallow river; a really nice place to have a wander about – wish I’d had more camera than the iPhone. There was a labrador who was crash diving into the river, to everyone’s amusement, particularly his own. From there we went down to Ogmore beach and I wished I were better shod – if I’d had proper walking boots and a stick in the car, I could have clambered down to the beach, but I didn’t dare without them. We’ll go back – it’s a lovely beach. *And* someone gave us their car park ticket, which was nice. We trundled from there to Porthcawl in search of a dish of tea and an early supper. It was, mostly, closed, which seemed odd for a holiday resort, but we found a nice restaurant and consumed excellent fish and chips at an outside table in the sunshine, with a fine view across the bay. Then off we went to Pontardawe. I’d entirely forgotten that it was a standing only gig – it’s ages since we booked the tickets. It’s a small theatre, and we were right at the front, so had the edge of the stage to lean on, and I was wearing my MBT shoes which are quite good for that sort of thing. Great gig – Richard, a guitar, a tub of Johnsons Baby Powder, and a towel. The set list included, but was not limited to:
The two final encores were requests (I note he is playing three shows in Saratoga CA in December that are all requests – I’d like to be there). We left Pontardawe at about 22:20, and were back in the house just before midnight, having had to park the car in the next street. Worth a 170 mile round trip? Oh yes :) |
|
dated Triffids
One of the television series I have very fond memories of (of which I have very fond memories?) is the 1981 version of The Day of the Triffids. I’m a huge fan of John Wyndham’s books, and I reread his entire canon every couple of years, and I recalled this series being outstanding.
So I was very pleased to discover it running on BBC 4 yesterday. I’d missed the first 3, but I set the Tivo and settled down to watch the rest. Oh dear. Oh dearie me.
I won’t criticise the effects, because I think they were terrific given the constraints of the time. But nobody seems to have been employed for their acting, not even John Duttine (who I remember with great fondness from To Serve Them All My Days. The music was … extraordinary. The titles were, I suppose, of their time and it’s a good job design has moved on since then.
I was so disappointed. But I shall fish out the books and read them all again instead – the pictures are always better in one’s head anyway.
overdone
After a couple of days of feeling really grotty, and wondering if I had a case of pigness, I woke yesterday feeling heaps better. Not right, but better.
So I did a stack of stuff with the winemaking – sent the gooseberries on their way to wine heaven, bottled the first batch of red ( after the surprisingly arduous task of scrubbing the labels of six bottles), re-racked two demijohns of apple wine, started some elderflower. All this means sterlising and cleaning as you go, and takes a surprisingly long time. And I left some of it on the patio table for cleaning and putting away this morning, and the torrential rain woke me at 5 a.m. Bah.
And we had lunch in St Werberghs, then walked the length of Gloucester Road and back – got a nice lamp with a big magnifier in Maplins, which will clamp on to the bookshelves and allow me to do tapestry again. Got some supplies from the wine shop, which is a glorious Arkwrightish emporium. Got some Somerset strawberries (this has to be the last of the year, surely). Got a thermometer, as astonishingly our medicine cabinet plastic box didn’t contain one.
Ate sossidge for supper, followed by strawberries and home made brownies and ice cream. Watched – well, I didn’t really, because it was so shite – Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. What a truly dreadful movie. Went to bed, slept like a log.
Woke this morning feeling not so bright again, which is maddening as I am so far behind with work, having lost two days this week, and wanted to do some today, and I’m having a half day tomorrow as we are going to see Richard Thompson somewhere in the wilds of Wellsh Wales near Swansea. I just want to sleep all the time. I think I might have done too much yesterday :(
the Roomba saga
I had a protracted e-mail discussion with iRobot’s support people in the US. They asked where I’d bought it, I said “Costco in Avonmouth, UK”. They asked for my shipping address – “this looks hopeful”, I thought.
And when they got the address, it dawned on them that I was in the UK [doh], and referred me to their UK agents.
So I e-mailed _them_ – “out of warranty”, they said. Return to us for quotation/repair.
I was miffed – £160ish to last only 16 months didn’t seem right to me. I e-mailed Costco – “bring it back for refund”, they said. So I did – no box, no receipt, no problem. They looked up my account on their computer-y thing and gave me a refund there and then.
It’s a tribute to the thing that I just want to get another RIGHT AWAY, even though it broke.
However, Costco don’t sell them any more, so a replacement costs quite a bit more. The best price I could find was £210, inc delivery. That place did the next model up, with scheduling and clever room management stuff, for £235, so we thought we’d go for that.
I paid by PayPal (I usually do if I can, saves the credit card number being in the possession of various varmints), and paid £3.99 for next day delivery.
I got an automated e-mail saying there was a problem with the PayPal a/c not being verified. I e-mailed and said “yes it is”. I got no reply. I e-mailed later in the day to ask if it had been despatched – I got no reply.
Next morning I checked the order tracking page – not despatched. I checked the PayPal a/c – money transferred previous day. I phoned the expensive number, to find a call centre; I was Polite.
Half an hour later, a refund of the delivery charge hit my PayPal account. Later in the day, I got a tracking number for ParcelFarce. We quaked, expecting the Roomba to arrive late, if at all, and in pieces. But it’s here! And it’s charging up. This one is black and looks quite fierce compared to the old 530 (which was silver and pale grey) – I think I shall call it Darth.
In other news, I have a temperature, aches and pains, a headache, and am utterly exhausted. I’ve never had flu in my life, but I do wonder …
last read
last watched
![Irresistible [DVD] [2006] by](/contentimages/smallamazonimage/B000O771YC.jpg)
![District 9 [DVD] [2009] by](/contentimages/smallamazonimage/B002KCNT3G.jpg)
last watched