Raising the gas bill today...

Roast Lamb with rosemary
Lemon carrots
Spuds
Thick rice pudding

I don't blog on Sundays.

Ta ta

Milky Drink Time

After a riveting evening I decided it was time to lay me old bones down to rest. So being a gentle soul I pressed my bare feet into the threadbare carpet and wandered off along the hall to bed. Only for Monty to go into attack cat mode and, by the darkened bathroom, jump from nowhere and tackle my ankles like a fat arsed wrestler.

"You no good tyke" I said, as I wriggled and bled. Then I immediately collapsed to my beautiful knees in mock death mode where we fought like cat and basket case. He, swirling about like a thing possessed, me enraptured by the mugger moggy. I tumbled, he fumbled, and with each tightening grip I laughed whilst dragging him along like a sack of old coal. Laugh? More like the aches and groans of love. So fascinated was I by his obvious show of adoration and trust that I knelt down by the hall mirror and thanked the funster for being him
Meanwhile he just looked wild eyed and carried on roughing me up.
And that's the way I like my males. Funny, fat and with aggressive tendencies.
Oh and stupid.


Goodnight All

Slept well. Whatever that means. Got out of bed gasping for a cuppa but before even putting the kettle on I roughed up some more bread dough. I think the result was well worth the gasping. See above.

Yesterday's dinner was a bit queer on account of my need to ditch the norm in favour of the odd. I thought a raita would cool down the spicy chicken so mixed a chopped apple and spoonful of mint sauce into a bowl of Greek yoghurt. Result? Orgasmic sounds from the old bloke.
Rice went a bit strange and glutinous because of the addition of turmeric, taste buds liked it though. I did not imbibe of the wine much because it was a bit out of place on the table of heat, instead I opted for Adam's ale. The picture however tells a different story, but I swear I didn't get squiffy. I always look like that on a Saturday night.

Naans were a tremendous success. Very fluffy interiors with a crisp outer. Perfect for breaking in a theatrical fashion. I did not mumble a prayer though because that would have made John feel uncomfortable what with him being so secular and awful.

The miserable looking tyke loitering on the windowsill is 'Lincoln'. He is made of some heavy material and cost £15. His belly dutifully holds my towel and I love him so much I talk to him about this and that. The kitchen sink is my soap box I chatter to the birds, Monty and now to Lincoln. Never has a woman been so crushingly frustrated.

The huge panoramic pic was made by John on account of 1. He's a fantastic photographer. 2. I bought him a camera. 3. He bought himself a new Tripod. 4. Photography is his passion above anything else.
But he does so get in my flipping way when he's in the kitchen.
***IF YOU WANT TO INSPECT THE PIC YOU MIGHT NEED TO CLICK ON IT. I DON'T KNOW.***

Heating up the kitchen today:
Lasagne made with the usual Bolognaise and a creamy Red Leicester cheese sauce. I'll probably have a slice or two of bread as well. For pud, ice cream and pins and needles...I do so love sitting with my legs tucked.

Ta ta

It is very late

And as a coating of devil black veils the sky I pen today's final words.

The food was delectable.
The mood congenial.
The telly bloody.
And a trim dotty Glo flitted from oven to couch like a hot slippery butterfly.

But now I'm in kittenish mood so I will skip from my chair to my bed, wriggle in between my covers and dream a deam of cream.

Good Friday. You bet it is!

Here's the first foodie 'success' in what I hope will be a long line of Easter foodie successssss! We had four slices this morning, John had it plainly buttered but I 'went nursery' and dropped raspberry jam on it.

Rising as I type is a good 2lbs worth of Naan bread dough, made using bread flour, butter, baking powder, sugar, natural yoghurt, warm milk and yeast. And marinating in a sort of home made curry paste are a few drumsticks, two bananas and half a pepper.
I usually use Patak's curry paste as the base for the marinade but today I have attempted to make my own version using curry powder, ginger, coriander seeds, cumin, cardamon and for extra heat, lots of black pepper. All this was glued together with a little oil.

After I've showered away the spices I might even get dressed.

Ta ta!

The bread is divine.

After tipping the round brown loaf from the baking sheet onto the cooling rack I stood back admiring my handy work. What a beauty. But far from perfect. It hung a little to the left, was browner on the right and shone in a splattery, floury, patchy kind of way. But I fell for it right away. Rather like people my bread. But much better to have a broken man in your arms than a flawless one.

The aroma of just baked bread is like nothing else, it made me think I'd be far better off living on a great fertile farm with a rich young farmer. Preferably one with wheat fields.

So as the bread was cooling I did a quickie make-over of the living room. Nothing too grandiose or excessively strenuous just the swift swapping around of cat tattered furniture and re-arrangement of my desirable cat collection. Who have now, by the way, taken up residence on the windowsill. I love you with all my heart.

Anyway the staff of life sat like a crown on its wire throne as I busied my amazing brain by creating a stunning new look for the main relaxation area. It's marvellous how, in dire times, the mind creates diversions and concocts rescue remedies. All in the name of self-preservation.
Standing in bare feet in the doorway I felt satisfied and that was what I wanted.

Back in the kitchen I touched my loaf and then gently, with the tip of a very sharp blade, I sliced through the crust...The back and forth, back and forth flow of my twenty five year old knife was calming because at each rhythmic movement, showers of nutty brown crumbs fell like bronzed dust.

And after stilling myself for a moment....

I held a slice up close to my eyes gazing at its interior, mmmmm a light slightly moist texture with slivers of sunflower seeds embedded like sequins on one of my gay dancing frocks I then tore it watching more crumbs fall, this time to the floor, I could wait no longer. Placing a piece the size of an old shilling into my mouth I mumbled something about doing something in remembrance of me, I then engaged my tongue and teeth and.... swallowed.
I was in heaven at 3 p.m.



I'll post a pic tomorrow.


Ta ta

A loaf of bread is baking.
The sun is hanging loose.
I am in pink and white.
And 'The Siege' is on standby.
Hols don't come any better than this...