Blow this weather...

But torrential rain does have its good points.
Like.

Taking time out in my small over-stuffed conservatory to listen and to watch.
Listening as skyfulls land on the leaky grey roof sounding like each well-needed drop is booted in silver tap shoes.
Dancing precipitation.
Cool.

Watching as coats of the stuff land heavy, fulsome, leaving in their wake that just-washed, brand spanking new, straight from the heavens look.
Big rain.
Awesome.





Goodwetnight:)

If this rain doesn't flood off I'll soon be taking a skid ride around Sainsbury's car park!

But I love food shopping so I'll rubberize my tiny feet in Sensible Brown Shoes and take a chance.

And so, as Brian McKnight sang, I'll be..........Back at One:)

Battered Down South

The storms last night were horrendous and many parts of Essex are flooded. As I look out of my office window I see the remnants of devilish winds and torrential rain, the bushes are still swaying and the dividing fence between me and my neighbour is rattling. But a hardy old soul has just passed by, his red and white anorak puffed up like a tent and I wonder where he's going. Probably down to Somerfields or the bakers.
And me, where am I going? Nowhere.

On the menu today Chicken casserole, mashed potatoes and green beans. For pud? Chocolate pudding and custard.

The chicken casserole is a queer old thing because it's made with store cupboard ingredients. Two chicken legs are browned with some onions and then a handful of lemon, thyme and parsley stuffing, some cooking wine and a tin of tomatoes are added. Plenty of black pepper and a kiss of salt are added too. Simple stuff but much welcomed on a winter's day.

Mashed potatoes are a subject worth talking about. I always pop in a good amount of butter and some warm milk and then beat it up with a big old fork.
The chocolate pudding I'll be making will have traditional pudding makers spitting feathers because I'll be making a microwaveable version. Shock horror! Don't get me wrong, it's still a fabulous little pudding, only it won't take three hours to cook; more like three minutes...
The recipe, funnily enough, comes from The Farmhouse Kitchen Microwave Cookbook. I wonder what Dorothy Sleightholme would think. Bless her.
Anyway that's enough of domestic stuff.

I'm in the mood for love so I expect a daft poem or two might be posted.