Monday, June 15, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Happy birthday, queen.
It's been the Queen's birthday weekend. Not a weekend, alas, where we dress up in satin, build guitars out of fireplaces, or even run the international drug trade. No, instead it's rained the whole weekend and we've made do with a scant spattering of indoor fun. Three wet days for which our gasping dams are grateful.
Saturday's highlight was going to Preston Market. Sunday was a drive in the country up through St Andrews and King Lake. This is a part of the world I love; a part of the world I feel at home in, despite my urban predilection.
Sunday was tired and sleepy. Headache for much of the day. It continued to rain. We ate.
Today was relaxed. I was eager to do so much in the garden and did little. Al had Kate here, and with Emmy and Will spent much of a rainy afternoon watching Get Smart. Maybe watching too much telly as a child is bad. I take heart in two things: (1) it didn't seem to harm me much, and if it did I'm too televisually stupid to tell; and (b) to quote Fry and Laurie, "of course 'too much is bad for you'; that's what 'too much' means".
Today's only novel experience was cooking a rib roast slowly (for more than 3 and a half hours at just under a 100 degrees). Bugger all Maillard reacting, except for the pre-roast browning, but amazingly, wonderfully tender... Juicy and soft, the meat was medium rare (as the recipe promised) and pulled apart with a butter knife, but it needed salt, pepper and mustard (and horseradish; if only we'd had it - bugger!).
I'd write some more, but its one of those nights where I'm not sure how much of myself I want to commit to blog. If this was a diary, perhaps I'd write more, but having started down this path I'm committed. I could always keep a diary I suppose, but who would I be writing for then?
Saturday's highlight was going to Preston Market. Sunday was a drive in the country up through St Andrews and King Lake. This is a part of the world I love; a part of the world I feel at home in, despite my urban predilection.
Sunday was tired and sleepy. Headache for much of the day. It continued to rain. We ate.
Today was relaxed. I was eager to do so much in the garden and did little. Al had Kate here, and with Emmy and Will spent much of a rainy afternoon watching Get Smart. Maybe watching too much telly as a child is bad. I take heart in two things: (1) it didn't seem to harm me much, and if it did I'm too televisually stupid to tell; and (b) to quote Fry and Laurie, "of course 'too much is bad for you'; that's what 'too much' means".
Today's only novel experience was cooking a rib roast slowly (for more than 3 and a half hours at just under a 100 degrees). Bugger all Maillard reacting, except for the pre-roast browning, but amazingly, wonderfully tender... Juicy and soft, the meat was medium rare (as the recipe promised) and pulled apart with a butter knife, but it needed salt, pepper and mustard (and horseradish; if only we'd had it - bugger!).
I'd write some more, but its one of those nights where I'm not sure how much of myself I want to commit to blog. If this was a diary, perhaps I'd write more, but having started down this path I'm committed. I could always keep a diary I suppose, but who would I be writing for then?
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Spinning
I just don't have much to say.
And if the rest of the world needs to be subjected to me getting the hang of video recording, then so be it.
And if the rest of the world needs to be subjected to me getting the hang of video recording, then so be it.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
