I like

washing on the washing line

 

spotty bananas

 

creamy white poppies

 

bright orange poppies

and listening to birds in my garden click to listen

 

 

I have so much “stuff” to do at work that I went in yesterday from 10 to 5.30. Then I came home and did some gardening.

 

Today I have no energy or strength to do anything other than ruminate about a few of my favourite things and all of more or less withing arms length of my armchair. I haven’t even been shopping this week so the family will just have to starve (Note to any health visitors reading this: all members of this household are over 16, apart from Gilman the rabbit and I am feeding him.)

 

I’m almost done with Pelagia now and the book picked up speed. I would have finished it on the way home, yesterday, but travelled with a lovely Parisian “velcro” friend of mine and overtaxed the mind muscles by conversing in French with her. This occupation consists of me moving closer and closer to her lips in the hope that by making the distance between her lips and my ears shorter there will be less chance of words going astray. Last time we journeyed together I was so transfixed by her osculatory muscles that we had gone through three stations before I realised we were on the wrong train.

 

Iin a previous post I likened some elements of the book to a Midsomer Murder but on reflection a comparison with a Poirot episode would be more fitting.

 

 

 

 

Big Daddy & Big Brother

While Big Daddy is away in the Lone Star State for six whole weeks, Big Brother decided to come home for the weekend. So that means meals for four again instead of a rather civilized three that we have been reduced to for just over a week.

Much as I would have liked to avoid the dreaded weekly shop with Big Brother temporarily in residence there was no chance. Big Brother has a B I G appetite. Shopping done, most of it put away and a wonderful surpise, BB cooked dinner for all of us. OK it was his favourite dinner but I’m never one for complaining about the menu if it is someone else’s responsibility.

Are you wondering what the favourite repast is? Cheese and Potaoe Pie. Nothing fancy, nothing exotic, nothing complicated.

INGREDIENTS: Potatoes – tons & Strong Cheddar Cheese – tons OPTIONAL: Cherry Tomatoes

METHOD: Spud bash & mash the tons of potatoes. Mix in 80% of the cheese. Put Cherry toms, cut in half, face up in interesting patterns of top of potato & cheese mash. Sprinkle remaining cheese all over top. Put under pre-heated grill and grill till cheese begins to brown and bubble.

NO PIC – Sorry … all too busy eating…

Thought for the day

from Jan Struther, the author of “Mrs Miniver”

” HARD words will break no bones:
But more than bones are broken
By the inescapable stones
Of fond words left unspoken.”

Having finished ASH of T in U (see previous posts) I needed to start something quickly so, like a drowning man, I grabbed the nearest object. I suspect that many of you carry out the same good work that I do, I rescue old green Virago books. And so it came to pass that as I was in desperate need , “Try Anything Twice” by Jan Struther lay in reach on a tbr pile on the hall table.

This book is a collection of writings that were published in various places including The New Statesman (where my 2nd son, Greg works), and Punch. If you feel like finding out more, then you can read the whole book online.

This is ideal “train reading” and so I am already halfway through and in very good humour. Who cares if the train is 5 minutes late, it just means that I can get properly started on the next piece and know I will be able to complete it by the time I’m feeding my monthly train pass through the ticket monster. Perhaps the train companies should dole out similar “in transit” books to keep us all smiling. Speaking of going to work by train, I love it most of the time. I have a group of friends that I made because we travel in the same direction at similar times. I even have a lunch date with one of them tomorrow. Mmm can’t wait, we’re off to Giuliano’s in the Apple Market. Pumpkin ravioli here I come.