Cow and Cat

I was going to write some erotica but the beef stew has made me come over all sleepy...
So, with a fat cat in tow, I'll stagger beefily into the front room and watch a bit of telly.
Night night...

Ray Day

Well here I am.
And on my to do list for today is:
1.Manoeuvre the hoover around two tabby cats and a brash load of ornaments. Lovingly ponder the Batman poster in the kids room and drying off the Jordan poster in the office.
Today is Ray Day.
Employer number 1.

2.Come home to the kitchen of love to make an enormous beef casserole. (will tell you why later on) Also make a large smooth as silk Chocolate cake.

3.Daydream about the England match on Wednesday. Already got the flag out. Already got the expletives to hand...

4.Throw handbags around the bedroom on account of being 1. A woman. 2. A twit and 3. dangerously hormonal.

5 Continue cleaning my teeth with some stupid sparkly stuff from Superdrug on account of 1. Fading teeth. 2. Diminishing brain cells and 3. Vanity

Now this beef casserole I'm making. It will need to be big because
1. We're getting older, grumpier and more carnivorous.
2. I like long slow cooked affairs
3. I'm going to take round a bowlful to my next employer, who will, I'm pleased to say be in my capable hands from tomorrow he will be Employer number 2."This time" I told him "It's gratis". He loved that, only hope he loves the stew.

Here is a lightningly quick list of my most favourite indoor pursuits:
1. Re-arranging dust
2. Re-arranging knick knacks
3. Looking in my purse.

Now I must rush to Ray. An erotic poem may be posted later. Depends on the state of my hands.

Pork and The Kid Who Would Be King...

On the Horsehound menu today:
Sweet and Sour Pork. I'll add a few chunks of cucumber, some itsy bitsy slices of pineapple and a wacking great load of carrot and peppers.
Pancake Rolls. From Sainsburys. Decent enough dipped in a bowl of Chilli sauce.
Boiled Noodles. Drained and then tossed in Sesame oil. Not a lot mind you on account of my heart and exorbitant price of aforementioned oil.

To satisfy my one remaining sweet tooth:
A bar of Galaxy chocolate inlaid with almonds and raisins. This is much better than Cadburys Fruit and Nut.
To drink: Water and tea. My innards are delicate and therefore need cleansing by copious amounts of tap water and PG Tips.

Entertainment comes in the form of recorded coverage of American Idol. Where two of my favourites, Adam Lambert who reminds me of a young Elvis, and Danny Cokey who is just nice will be singing their tonsils out doing Motown classics under the smooth supervisory wing of Mr Smoky Robinson.

I so love A.I. it's the bigness and brashness of it I love, the host Mr Ryan Seacrest who will, from now on, be known as Brian Sea Cucumber is as squeaky clean as my kitchen knives and just as sharp. But I don't fancy him. After all that I feel a film is on the cards, probably the one I recorded last night, "The Edge" I think it's called. Anyway it has the divine Anthony Hopkins in, and that's good enough for me. I am not in love with him.


General stuff now.
My hair is looking a bit bouffant. And that is bad because it makes me act like a madam.
I bought a new secondhand jacket yesterday when out with my stitched skull mum. It's short, red and made in Paris and it cost £5. It reminds of the type of jacket Jackie Kennedy might have worn. I will avoid men named John...Ooops!
I have a new job. My second. I will be a Housekeeper to a business man who has a wicked sense of humour and a nice belly. He likes beef, chocolate, First World War poetry, God and money.
I think we'll get on.

That's enough from me.
More Monday.

Mum hit her head yesterday and had to have nine stitches.

To see you plastered
made my insides weep
the square of dressing
sat cap like
clamping your fading hair to your tender head
What you doing to me?
I silently asked
as you slopped my tea towards me
"Let's go to Boots" you laughed
and I loved you.

Leeks Are The New Cucumbers

Carrying on from yesterday's juicy post here's some more foodie related stuff.
I am growing accustomed to Leeks. Not the poncy extra-trimmed, washed, packaged ones but real ones, real ones which lay haphazard in the box, loose and dirty. I like food to excite me and untidy veg does it for me. I also get a lot of pleasure from scrubbing, because there's no better feeling than cleaning out a leek. Getting right in between the layers inching out every speck of dirt splashing water all over them and them slicing them smiling, I like that enormously. But I digress slightly, leeks are becoming a favourite on account of their many uses, for example, one was popped in a chicken casserole yesterday and very good it was too. I have three other leeks. One will go into a beef casserole and the other, well, I'll have to ponder that...

Last nights chicken casserole was so gorgeous I didn't want it to end.
The chicken thighs were braised in cooking wine and the sauce was thickened by the addition of a handful of lemon and parsley stuffing (from a packet). Simple enough, no surprises or wowees, but, and here's the queer part, a spoonful of apricot jam is included. Don't get in a flap over it, it's all perfectly natural and perfect. Jam and chicken? Queer but great!
Now accompaniments.
Usually I do mashed potatoes, but I couldn't be bothered so I cooked 8oz of Couscous to which I added butter, pepper and salt. It was sublime. The redded chicken looked fabulous resting on a couscous mound and for once I had seconds! If you haven't tried couscous, try it, your life will be made happier by it.

That was yesterday, today I'm making Nasi Goreng, an Indonesian dish, although if a pukka Indonesian chap tasted my version he'd hit me because I'm sure it bears no resemblance to an authentic Goreng, but we like it, and I have my favourite cook to thank for introducing it to me, the lovely everlasting Mary Berry.
More about her some other time...

Now I must dash to a rather late brekkie. And I'm ditching the porridge in favour of Weetabix. I wonder if it'll affect me?

Happy Food

Meatballs.
Had a few last night and very good and friendly they were too. I've always wondered what makes certain foods 'friendly'. Has it something to do with childhood memories? Is my fascination with Spotted Dick all down to spending my formative years in steamy London cafes? Yes to both. But Meatballs where do they figure in Glo's past? Because never ever did my mum, gran or indeed anyone dish up a plate of meatballs. The nearest I got to queer gear was eating some sort of Goulash/stew made by the mother of my school friend, Marina Mihilovich. I remember the table sported a red velvet cloth and the Goulash tasted fab. After all I was a kid whose only foray into exotic cuisine was an Arctic Roll.
But back to my main point what makes food friendly? It can't all be down to distant sticky kiddie memories there must be another reason. And I think I know what it is. Food must be happy. Here's a list of my Happy Food.

1. Jam Puddings. First had these at about five years old drowning in cafe custard. That's the pud not me.

2. Chocolate Cake. The doyen of cakes. Men like big ones I've noticed.

3. Toad-in-the-hole. Bangers for birds as well as blokes. But must use decent snorkers.

4. Roast dinners. Life would be unthinkable without these.

5. Messy Rice dishes like Nasi Goreng where fried pork, veg, soy sauce, omelette and chopped tomato all get twirled around in my biggest gayest bowl. That is joyous.

6. Curries of course. Home made, yes but restaurant ones are good too because not only do you get a choccie and damp towel at the end but you get to scorch your hand on the burner too!

7. Chinese. At the weekend if money allows. Munching on Chow Mein and Crispy Shredded Beef whilst watching a violent film.

8. Steak with steak and more steak. It is my one indulgence. But what makes steak even better is having a tiny piece measuring approx. 4x2 with a fried egg and tomato ketchup whilst listening to the news. Heaven.

9. Bagels. Yes I've taken to them in a big way. Toasted with butter and raspberry jam. They are the kings of the dough world.

10. Bananas, cucumbers and steak pies. Not at the same time. I secrete a banana about my person when out and about, I worship cucumbers because they're innocent, make a decent curry accompaniment and are almost calorie free. They also serve to amuse. Steak pies are magical, magnificent and majestic, especially with chips.

So that is my list of happy food. What makes YOU happy?

No Idea

As I drifted around Sainsburys trying to avoid nasty old people, buggy pushers, workmen in flourescent jackets and chattering middle-aged women with silent husbands in tow my mind wandered off to sweeter things. Things like lipstick, poetry, blonde hair and erotic underwear propped up my sanity as they always always do. And when I got to the checkout I knew that within a few minutes I'd be off and away driving in whatever direction home is, and into the loving needle- sharp paws of Monty. It was going well. Until, coming up behind me, was a man clearly unwell. His loud voice spoke about queues, cider, the woman in the fish shop, insomnia and his Bi-Polar and after five minutes of this the comatose queuing customers just wanted out.

His choice of dress didn't help him make friends, head to toe in black, even his eyes being shielded by sunglasses. He sported a crucifix and his spiked dog collar had nothing to do with being a vicar. But he was articulate and clean, and I dare say a decent enough bloke, but to the average Joe he was a nuisance and a nutter. I shot a prayer up hoping he wouldn't corner me because I was tired and wanted to get home, unfortunately my prayer went unheard so as I packed my bags he asked loudly if I knew what Bi-Polar was, I said Yes, he laughed and in a booming voice said "I've met my new wife". The cashiers head couldn't get any lower, her eyes carefully avoiding the man in black and my own so I handed over my money and left.
I left him with his illness and as I walked away wondered how many of the bitching nasty tutting shit-scared customers had any idea of the hell he was in.