Mon - September 13, 2004
Tidiness
In which Mike apologises for his
absence
I have been tidy of late, wherefore I know not, and
have therefore no entries made. But I
have
been to Sweden and Amsterdam and New York, I'm going back there next week, and
then to Madrid, oh, and I've been to Edinburgh twice as well to see T, who is
well and says "Hi!" to everyone. Whether she knows them or not. I have also
refactored a component, cooked dinner for G which didn't end in total disaster
(though there was some unfortunate train-and-bus-based jiggery-pokery and been
to a lovely party in Northampton. I've mentioned Loughborough already, haven't
I? And I went to an outdoor James Taylor concert at Blicking with the parentals,
R and C, and D's mum, who I haven't seen for years but who it was terribly nice
to see again. I've sent letters to D and his mum at two separate wrong addresses
and people have managed to forward them on to their correct recipients, which
warms the cockles, so to speak. I've also read (finally)
A Canticle for
Leibowitz, which was better (and bleaker)
than I thought it was going to be after the first ten pages. And I've finished
the Jasper ffordes as well, which is good, because they're amusing; and I reread
the Road Less
Travelled, because I was feeling sappy-ish at
the time (and
Sybil
by Flora Rheta Schreiber, which I still recommend to anyone who owns or operates
a brain). Still haven't polished off
Fierce
People,
The Man in the High
Castle,
Dead Air, Weathercock, One Flew Over
the Cuckoo's Nest, On the Road, The Rule of Four, Quicksilver, The Count of
Monte Cristo or
Oryx and
Crake, which is a little disappointing, but W
did give me a copy of Simon Gray's The
Smoking Diaries when she left work, which was
very thoughtful and a darn good read. Gray's one of those people who knocks off
little, charmingly vague paragraphs which still manage to be substantial. Only
regret is that not more brain power is available to process that kind of thing
properly. And then when I went to Aylesbury to see M and V, I found Michael
Hamburger's Poems of Paul
Celan which I'm tackling gradually in both
languages (and wishing for a better dictionary, and knowledge of German). Though
Marcela Serrano's L'albergo delle donne
tristi was good in Italian; should try reading
it in English and see if I like it as much - suspect it's a touch sappy and has
a slightly less dreamlike quality in English. Was definitely overinvolved with
it when I first went to see T, though -- kept interrupting her on our tour of
Auld Reekie to say, "But Floreana's going to give up! I can't believe it! Get on
with it, woman! It's so frustrating! 'I touched his hand' is all she manages and
it's PATHETIC!", which was hardly appropriate for halfway up to the Castle. But
do go to Plaisir du Chocolat and have some of their cake and tea. I recommend
the light-and-dark chocolate cheesecake with the rose tea, because that's what I
had and I wouldn't really know about anything else except that the whole place
looked to be 87% cocoa and it made me drool. Oh, and I haven't finished
The Rules of
Attraction yet, but then that might be because
I derived a sort of bitter satisfaction from getting through
Less Than
Zero without therapeutic assistance and I'm
less confident of my ability to resist the transformation into a dribbling wreck
halfway through. And I missed out Salt:
A World History, which I bought in Aylesbury
too (at the same time as the Hamburger Celan) and was one of those things that
make you glad it's other people who write books, because they see things
differently (in this case, in a completely perpendicular way to me) and make you
be interested in things you thought were good if they were a) cheap in Tesco and
b) in the dishwasher rather than hyperprocessed food-analogue. Oh, and I read
that John Clute thing,
Appleseed,
which was good because it was using language honestly to indicate that things
were incomprehensible. Though I suppose you could write it off as simply a bit
of sustained stylism.... but who else could get away with calling an alien
"Mamselle Cunning Earth Link"? Oh, and William Gibson's
All Tomorrow's
Parties, which I liked again, though I have
yet to put my finger on quite why. Chapter headings consisted of notable bits of
phrasing from the chapter itself, which felt a bit "If you write something you
think particularly fine, be sure to strike it out at once" to start off, but
grew on me. Still reading Doris Lessing's
Love,
Again, another one with that odd little
subtitle "A Novel", as if someone needs convincing (who? People who might have
thought, "Oh, look -- Doris Lessing's written another ocelot. Oh no, my mistake,
it's a novel!"?)(or perhaps more treacherously the author? Do we need version
control systems for books? Formalise the dusty scholar's comparison of quarto
Hamlet
to first folio
Hamlet
in search of the ur-text to a diff between revisions 1.1.6.5 and 1.98.5.6.8.7?
I'm thinking this because I wonder if she starts off with a nice clean A4
notebook, a biro and a title (say, "Love, Again") and writes down "Love, Again",
and that kind of gets the idea out of her, it's a running away a bit now and
needs to be hunted down a little, pegged back to the page, so she writes in a
nice clean hand, "A Novel", gives it the weight of a little self-importance,
just enough to start the words falling onto the page nicely, and then whoosh!
it's 18 months later and she's returned the galley proofs and seen the cover
designs and approved the list of people who will be asked to burble on about it,
and then just as the presses start rolling in distant Taiwan, sits bolt upright
in bed and thinks, "'A Novel'! Arse! I meant to get them to cut that out! Greer
will have it for breakfast!" and then pulls lovely linen sheets, crisp and
ironed, back over her head and drifts off into a calm sleep?) And James Frey's
A Million Little
Pieces, which is quite honest, but oddly
popped out of the self-help section at me -- this may be valid if your idea of
self-help is reading about someone having root canal work without anaesthesia...
but then I suppose that's a small part of why I enjoyed reading it, simply
thinking "What a relief that that's not me" at fifteen-minute intervals. A good
read nonetheless. It's not that I usually hang around the self-help section - I
always think it's a bit odd to read books about self-help
that other people have
written, because then all you're getting is
(at best) How I Helped Myself (and You Can Too, If You Have The Same Problems
For The Same Reasons And Are Essentially In An Identical Situation, In Fact
Stuff It This Is Good For Me Because I'm Making A Packet But It's Irrelevant To
You) -- but I was looking to see if they had a copy of
Getting Things
Done, which sounded like a good read and a
sensible sort of a thing to get to grips with for a person like me -- that is, a
chronic procrastinator who carries around todo lists a mile long which never get
any shorter in his head. But then again I read a summary and it seemed to be
quite familiar territory: have a tickle file if you've got a lot of
time-critical stuff happening, empty your inbox at the end of every day, if it's
a two minute job do it now and then you never have to worry about it or remember
to do it or get tempted to merge it with three other two-minute jobs and have it
take thirty-five minutes, make definite decisions about things that get on your
to do list -- do, delegate or defer and fill your bin once a day, and thought I
could probably do that just with a bit of self-discipline. I do sound a bit
daft, muttering "It's only a two minute job, do it NOW" to myself, but it seems
to be keeping the flat a bit cleaner and my inbox a bit emptier, and friends a
bit more communicated with, which is splendid. Must ring J as I promised, and
mail S, come to think of it. Oh, and I spent a Saturday in a jacuzziful of
lesbians and have just spent a Saturday night watching mates do live-action
Elephant Polo. Nice.
Posted at 08:15 PM Read More
Sun - March 21, 2004
Sunday lunch -- beauty!
In which Mike overeats
The lovely Sharon cooked. I have long been envious
of her ability to rustle up a feast from nothing. Excelling herself in this
instance, she somehow produced a light lunch for eight from just twenty
chickens, eight pigs'-worth of sausages and about fifteen pounds of mash.
Moreover, she's had her garden done up and I did enjoy the group photo of
archæologists the other night so I thought we'd go for it
again:
L to R -- back row: Aaronboy, Paulboy, Vanessabird, Shazbird; front row: Lindabird, Fridabird.
It was very nice food and I had big seconds which I finished about three hours after everyone else, and I put away a sizeable quantity of wine, and I fear for my ability to wake up in time for work tomorrow. With this in mind I have pre-positioned everything of which I anticipate I shall be in need in a small area of the kitchen and am hoping that this will enable me to undertake the complex task of providing myself with a commuter-mugful of coffee to imbibe on the way to work. If I can't, all may be lost for my projects. Sigh.
L to R -- back row: Aaronboy, Paulboy, Vanessabird, Shazbird; front row: Lindabird, Fridabird.
It was very nice food and I had big seconds which I finished about three hours after everyone else, and I put away a sizeable quantity of wine, and I fear for my ability to wake up in time for work tomorrow. With this in mind I have pre-positioned everything of which I anticipate I shall be in need in a small area of the kitchen and am hoping that this will enable me to undertake the complex task of providing myself with a commuter-mugful of coffee to imbibe on the way to work. If I can't, all may be lost for my projects. Sigh.
Posted at 11:29 PM Read More
Sun - February 15, 2004
Delia's Toasted Sandwiches Recovered from Obscurity!
In which Mike acknowledges his debts...
For those of you who enjoyed "Tuna and Pasta Bake,
Oh My!", here's the original from which I shamelessly lifted the idea. And, it
turns out, some of the phrasing -- though I hadn't even seen it for about three
years when I wrote. Weird, eh? Must be the urbane genius of the original. Note
also my mangling of the original title -- apologies.
This recipe is copyright Tom Witney.
Lesson 1: Scrambled Toast.
For this simple, yet time consuming, snack you will need:
one sandwich toaster (I find that geriatric ones work best for this
recipe)
4 slices of bread
some of that marvellous low fat olive spread
fillings of your choice
The first thing to do is to make sure that you clean the sandwich toaster
thoroughly using plenty of detergent. We don't want any nasty grease do
we?!
The next step is to decide on which fillings you want to use. My
favourites are mozzerella, sun dried tomatoes, olives, parmesan, fresh
basil leaves, lime and coriander. (If you're common <how quaint!> don't
worry. I've heard that mild cheddar and HP sauce work wonderfully.)
Now we're ready to start cooking. Take your 4 slices of bread, I always
make sure I use fresh granary - it gives a lovely nutty flavour, and
spread thinly with some low fat olive spread. (Again, the common people
reading need not fret. Sunblest and lard work just as well I've been
told.)
When the sandwich toaster is good and hot, put in the bread spread side
down and assemble the fillings. Close the toaster and leave until the
cheese has melted and the bread is thoroughly welded into the toaster.
Taking care to burn yourself several times, laboriously scrape the bread
and fillings from the toaster and arrange on a plate using a sharp knife.
If you do it properly this can take up to half an hour!
When you've scraped all you can, you should find yourself with a plate of
slightly cheesy breadcrumbs and a knackered sandwich toaster. Delicious!
Leave the toaster to soak overnight, then attempt to chip the rest of the
cheese from the cooking surface. Spend a good hour or two over this.
Then throw the damned thing away!
Unfortunately this meal only serves one, but it makes a marvellous starter
at dinner parties (Common people: you can stop reading this now and go
back to The Sun crossword). Make your guests the toast in the usual way in
individual sandwich toasters. Serve hot and still in the toaster. Your
guests can experience the frustration and anger themselves as they try and
scrape the remains of their dinner from the awkward corners!
Enjoy! And remember. The time consuming nature of this dish makes it
ideal for times when you're really busy. Like exam term perhaps.
Next week: Delia shows us how to burn eggs!
This recipe is copyright Tom Witney.
Lesson 1: Scrambled Toast.
For this simple, yet time consuming, snack you will need:
one sandwich toaster (I find that geriatric ones work best for this
recipe)
4 slices of bread
some of that marvellous low fat olive spread
fillings of your choice
The first thing to do is to make sure that you clean the sandwich toaster
thoroughly using plenty of detergent. We don't want any nasty grease do
we?!
The next step is to decide on which fillings you want to use. My
favourites are mozzerella, sun dried tomatoes, olives, parmesan, fresh
basil leaves, lime and coriander. (If you're common <how quaint!> don't
worry. I've heard that mild cheddar and HP sauce work wonderfully.)
Now we're ready to start cooking. Take your 4 slices of bread, I always
make sure I use fresh granary - it gives a lovely nutty flavour, and
spread thinly with some low fat olive spread. (Again, the common people
reading need not fret. Sunblest and lard work just as well I've been
told.)
When the sandwich toaster is good and hot, put in the bread spread side
down and assemble the fillings. Close the toaster and leave until the
cheese has melted and the bread is thoroughly welded into the toaster.
Taking care to burn yourself several times, laboriously scrape the bread
and fillings from the toaster and arrange on a plate using a sharp knife.
If you do it properly this can take up to half an hour!
When you've scraped all you can, you should find yourself with a plate of
slightly cheesy breadcrumbs and a knackered sandwich toaster. Delicious!
Leave the toaster to soak overnight, then attempt to chip the rest of the
cheese from the cooking surface. Spend a good hour or two over this.
Then throw the damned thing away!
Unfortunately this meal only serves one, but it makes a marvellous starter
at dinner parties (Common people: you can stop reading this now and go
back to The Sun crossword). Make your guests the toast in the usual way in
individual sandwich toasters. Serve hot and still in the toaster. Your
guests can experience the frustration and anger themselves as they try and
scrape the remains of their dinner from the awkward corners!
Enjoy! And remember. The time consuming nature of this dish makes it
ideal for times when you're really busy. Like exam term perhaps.
Next week: Delia shows us how to burn eggs!
Posted at 09:57 PM Read More
Mon - January 12, 2004
Mon - December
8, 2003
Ciao a Marghe, Shipneck Frafo e Paola!
In cui Mike parla l'italiano - In which Mike gets to
speak foreign, badly
(o almeno le tre parole che si
ricorda).
Solo per dire ciao alle mie amiche italiane se si arrivino senza la più pallida idea di che cosa sto parlando. Speditemi email! (Altrimente, frafo, puoi darmi una critica precisa dall'articolo sottostante titolato <<Comparison>>
Baci!
Future services will be conducted in English, for the benefit of the loyal non-italophone congregation.
Solo per dire ciao alle mie amiche italiane se si arrivino senza la più pallida idea di che cosa sto parlando. Speditemi email! (Altrimente, frafo, puoi darmi una critica precisa dall'articolo sottostante titolato <<Comparison>>
Baci!
Future services will be conducted in English, for the benefit of the loyal non-italophone congregation.
Posted at 10:35 PM Read More
Sun - November 23, 2003
Another thing
In which Mike makes an important
advertisement
in common with all other blogs, I may have neglected
to mention that Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots by the Flaming Lips is one of the
most convincing things I've heard for years, something I will undoubtedly listen
to for several years to come, it's unfair that I keep forgetting to buy Breeders
stuff, and hasn't Phil Collins stopped making noises
yet?
Oh, all that and Chlamyphorus truncatus is the single most wondeful mammal since, like, ever.
Oh, all that and Chlamyphorus truncatus is the single most wondeful mammal since, like, ever.
Posted at 01:21 AM Read More
Audience
In which Mike discovers exactly how many people can
hear you scream in cyberspace
Greetings, lasses and
fellows.
I learn slowly and repeatedly that more than two people who aren't sub-personalities of mine actually look on a reasonably regular (if infrequent) basis at these hallowed pages.
This is deeply curious and yet warmly flattering, somehow.
The end result of this is that I'm going to have to spend an hour or ten getting CSS down pat and then sorting this blog out to look like something I'd like to look at myself. I'm feeling Trebuchet-ish, just because it would mean all us poor work-enforced PC users could reliably see something more stylish than WinXP; and I'm definitely going to write something which will work cross-browser (as in, Safari, KHTML, Konqueror, MacIE5.2 and then minority browsers like, uh, Lynx, and PCIE6, or Gecko-based tools. Hmm. I may be rethinking that one sometime.)
Meantime I hope you all enjoy it. As a reward for such patience, have a look at this (if I say so myself) stunningly lovely photograph [wildly large file warning!! 856K!!] I took on holiday in Maine. Mwah!
I learn slowly and repeatedly that more than two people who aren't sub-personalities of mine actually look on a reasonably regular (if infrequent) basis at these hallowed pages.
This is deeply curious and yet warmly flattering, somehow.
The end result of this is that I'm going to have to spend an hour or ten getting CSS down pat and then sorting this blog out to look like something I'd like to look at myself. I'm feeling Trebuchet-ish, just because it would mean all us poor work-enforced PC users could reliably see something more stylish than WinXP; and I'm definitely going to write something which will work cross-browser (as in, Safari, KHTML, Konqueror, MacIE5.2 and then minority browsers like, uh, Lynx, and PCIE6, or Gecko-based tools. Hmm. I may be rethinking that one sometime.)
Meantime I hope you all enjoy it. As a reward for such patience, have a look at this (if I say so myself) stunningly lovely photograph [wildly large file warning!! 856K!!] I took on holiday in Maine. Mwah!
Posted at 12:53 AM Read More
Sun - November 16, 2003
Mornings
In which Mike ponders 9am
I mean, what's with 9am,
anyway?
What is nine am other than the unpleasant half of the nine-to-five?
Nine am is a compromise reached between early starters and liers-in which suits neither of them particularly well but is borne unsteadily and irregularly because it's as close as we can get to something everyone likes.
Were I ever to find myself in the position of starting up a company, the interviews I would give everyone would include such questions as "What sort of time would suit you best to start work?" (Beware you 9am-ers, you're not going to pass).
Note to self: re-organise world, time, etc. when next have weekend free of social engagements.
To Maglev's for the evening to warm his house. Personally I find gas central heating a more certain way of proceeding, but there. Amusing, delightful, whimsical, and featuring a concealer to die for. Who'd a thunk JPG had it in him (in the other sense)? Photographic reproduction of Maglev seemed to go down well, which is fortunate, and the desired circumstance to boot.
Ooh, and a lovely card in sepia from J thanking me for showing up at the wedding, which, given the quantity of bubbly there available, is assuredly the wrong way round, even if terribly mannered. Card is rather scenic, in point of fact; although I have a dimly champagned memory that anything happening in the Dorchester is surrounded by a haze of glamour unavailable in less salubrious locations. Am thankful to have already dispatched a correspondence card of thanks, as now feel that have entered world of genteel postal communication at precisely the right moment.
Plus bloke on the train this evening highly eye candy. Am thinking San Francisco end of next season, with NY in spring to see Stuey.
What is nine am other than the unpleasant half of the nine-to-five?
Nine am is a compromise reached between early starters and liers-in which suits neither of them particularly well but is borne unsteadily and irregularly because it's as close as we can get to something everyone likes.
Were I ever to find myself in the position of starting up a company, the interviews I would give everyone would include such questions as "What sort of time would suit you best to start work?" (Beware you 9am-ers, you're not going to pass).
Note to self: re-organise world, time, etc. when next have weekend free of social engagements.
To Maglev's for the evening to warm his house. Personally I find gas central heating a more certain way of proceeding, but there. Amusing, delightful, whimsical, and featuring a concealer to die for. Who'd a thunk JPG had it in him (in the other sense)? Photographic reproduction of Maglev seemed to go down well, which is fortunate, and the desired circumstance to boot.
Ooh, and a lovely card in sepia from J thanking me for showing up at the wedding, which, given the quantity of bubbly there available, is assuredly the wrong way round, even if terribly mannered. Card is rather scenic, in point of fact; although I have a dimly champagned memory that anything happening in the Dorchester is surrounded by a haze of glamour unavailable in less salubrious locations. Am thankful to have already dispatched a correspondence card of thanks, as now feel that have entered world of genteel postal communication at precisely the right moment.
Plus bloke on the train this evening highly eye candy. Am thinking San Francisco end of next season, with NY in spring to see Stuey.
Posted at 01:45 AM Read More
Sat
- November 15, 2003
Trains
A poetic open rant to South West Trains
Dear South West
Trains,
If you owned a brewery, you would sell orange juice.
It would be labelled, "Milk".
Mike
If you owned a brewery, you would sell orange juice.
It would be labelled, "Milk".
Mike
Posted at 05:07 PM Read More
Thu - November 13, 2003
Cardigans
In which Mike bets on his own
forgetfulness
So A & S, & W, all came over last night and
we had a lovely time over some delightful chilli Jo made over the course of a
couple of days, and I did rice and accidentally did rice for seven instead of
five (call me an optimist...), and we had a couple of glasses of wine and a
lively chat and were very no-holds-barred and loud and rude and funny and wildly
exciting.... and Shell left her cardy.
Now, tomorrow I am due to travel to Richmond to give unto her the cardigan. I would like to place on record here & now exactly how minimal are the chances of my remembering all this tomorrow when it comes time to go there & do as instructed. You all have my permission to ask whether I managed it and to subsequently cackle when I cack it up. It will be my fault alone and, depressingly, I know even now just how wrong it's going to go. And I like my infinitives split, all right?
Sigh.
Now, tomorrow I am due to travel to Richmond to give unto her the cardigan. I would like to place on record here & now exactly how minimal are the chances of my remembering all this tomorrow when it comes time to go there & do as instructed. You all have my permission to ask whether I managed it and to subsequently cackle when I cack it up. It will be my fault alone and, depressingly, I know even now just how wrong it's going to go. And I like my infinitives split, all right?
Sigh.
Posted at 12:08 AM Read More
Mon - November 3, 2003
Tidiness
In which Mike is bemused by notions of tidiness and
filth.
This evening I tidied. This put me in mind of a
number of puzzling things, but particularly some questions like: why can dust
get into my lovely clean white Apple keyboard, and Can Anything Be Done about
it?, why is it better to have hidden, inaccessible and obscured important things
than it is to have a convenient, exposed pile of them?, why does anyone bother
with wardrobes? and finally Why have all my suits got dusty shoulders and old
post-it notes stuck to them?
If you haven't already, I urge you to read the letters page of the current Private Eye, as it's one of the (relatively few) things of late to make me laugh out loud for a long time in an inappropriate venue. I've missed being eyeballed by the Proud Normal.
Now I have cleaned my room I keep looking round for tumbleweed. It's as though it's died, and someone has been industriously making it shiny and polished and bouffant and eventually utterly unlike it ever was in life. All the character seems to have drained out of it. But I can find my socks, so maybe all is not Lost.
The brain is meandering because I can't decide what to do about tomorrow morning. As neither the charming L nor the equally charming H is able to offer me a lift to work to-morrow, I face my worst nightmare: a journey on the bus with a certain Mr. Public with whom I have not for some little while forcibly spent time. I suspect this is my punishment for the too, too divine week-and-a-bit I've had of late, in which I have been to see a moving picture with Miss A, slept perilously close to Ms. P, exposed my fishnet covered legs to Ms. R, and accused her beloved of looking like Kevin Keegan. What more could a fellow ask of life? So, should I rise earlier than normal and hope to make it in before traffic becomes illegally awful, or should I lie in bed a-dozing and get in late? The answer, inevitably, is that I shall get up earlier, which means I have to go and do some work now or else I shall be further behind than I can ever to recover from.
Bonne nuit!
If you haven't already, I urge you to read the letters page of the current Private Eye, as it's one of the (relatively few) things of late to make me laugh out loud for a long time in an inappropriate venue. I've missed being eyeballed by the Proud Normal.
Now I have cleaned my room I keep looking round for tumbleweed. It's as though it's died, and someone has been industriously making it shiny and polished and bouffant and eventually utterly unlike it ever was in life. All the character seems to have drained out of it. But I can find my socks, so maybe all is not Lost.
The brain is meandering because I can't decide what to do about tomorrow morning. As neither the charming L nor the equally charming H is able to offer me a lift to work to-morrow, I face my worst nightmare: a journey on the bus with a certain Mr. Public with whom I have not for some little while forcibly spent time. I suspect this is my punishment for the too, too divine week-and-a-bit I've had of late, in which I have been to see a moving picture with Miss A, slept perilously close to Ms. P, exposed my fishnet covered legs to Ms. R, and accused her beloved of looking like Kevin Keegan. What more could a fellow ask of life? So, should I rise earlier than normal and hope to make it in before traffic becomes illegally awful, or should I lie in bed a-dozing and get in late? The answer, inevitably, is that I shall get up earlier, which means I have to go and do some work now or else I shall be further behind than I can ever to recover from.
Bonne nuit!
Posted at 09:35 PM Read More
Wed - October 1, 2003
Irons II: The Revenge
In which Mike's equanimity is restored
Lloyd, blessed be he, dropped me off at HomeBase on
the way home, and I walked directly in to the irons section, found the iron I
required immediately, purchased it without delay and was granted 20% off on the
grounds that it was Tuesday.
I cannot help but fear that Life is attempting to compensate me in advance for something I really don't want to know about. I am seeing us flying Luggage Class on Thursday.
Reassuringly, am in the country for less than 36 hours from this point on. Roll on Boston, say I.
Speaking of which, no updates until the 13th or 14th when I finally return, get the Mac back on, and figure out which way is midnight.
I cannot help but fear that Life is attempting to compensate me in advance for something I really don't want to know about. I am seeing us flying Luggage Class on Thursday.
Reassuringly, am in the country for less than 36 hours from this point on. Roll on Boston, say I.
Speaking of which, no updates until the 13th or 14th when I finally return, get the Mac back on, and figure out which way is midnight.
Posted at 12:59 AM Read More
Mon - September 29, 2003
Irons
In which Mike belatedly explores his domestic
side
I hate irons. Irons have it in for me. I bought the
iron I've just thrown out not three years ago and already it's a) decided to not
be a steam iron any more, and b) to leave rust stains exclusively on white
clothing, preferably the nice bits you wanted to
wear.
If it weren't for http://www.chemistry.co.nz/stain_frame.htm , I think I'd be so annoyed I've have killed. As it is I have merely spread unease amongst the crockery, due to an unusually vicious emptying of the dishwasher.
Grrr. I am certain that this has nothing to do with a) the time of the month, b) the state of the project I'm working on, c) the time of the month, or d) the state of the project I'm working on. Thanks be that I don't suffer from stress! Ha! HA! etc., ad nauseam.
I am now compiling a list of things people want from the States. I am considering buying another suitcase for them. Note to self: next time, go somewhere dreary and rather unpopular, like Latvia, and bring back dried squid.
I think I am becoming elderly and irritable. Huzzah!
If it weren't for http://www.chemistry.co.nz/stain_frame.htm , I think I'd be so annoyed I've have killed. As it is I have merely spread unease amongst the crockery, due to an unusually vicious emptying of the dishwasher.
Grrr. I am certain that this has nothing to do with a) the time of the month, b) the state of the project I'm working on, c) the time of the month, or d) the state of the project I'm working on. Thanks be that I don't suffer from stress! Ha! HA! etc., ad nauseam.
I am now compiling a list of things people want from the States. I am considering buying another suitcase for them. Note to self: next time, go somewhere dreary and rather unpopular, like Latvia, and bring back dried squid.
I think I am becoming elderly and irritable. Huzzah!
Posted at 10:48 PM Read More
Sat
- September 27, 2003
Tuna and Pasta Bake, Oh My!
It occurs to me that this is the ideal location in
which to share with the world my love of carbohydrates, in particular this fine,
fine and noble dish, winner of the 1997 "All Berkshire Culinary Disaster
Contest", following on from the strong 1996 victor, "Delia's Toasted Sandwiches"
entered by Tomasz McWhitney, of the Guinness Book of Wrong.
Mike's Tuna and Pasta
Bake
with apologies to Tom "Delia's Toasties" Witney
Ingredients
1 dishful pasta (roughly)
Tuna, 1 small can
Frozen vegetable remnants
Condensed Soup
Method
Lightly overcook the pasta in water you meant to salt, but forgot. Drain, and put aside to become a gelatinous mass. While the pasta is congealing, defrost the frozen vegetables in the microwave at full power for approximately twice the time given on the pack, until they are steaming and inseparable from the bowl.
Open the soup (mushroom, but since you’ve already opened the chicken, that will do). Make up with water and milk (non-lumpy for preference) and heat until it boils over.
Place the pasta and vegetables in a large pan. Rotate the lumps together and spill generously on the floor or worktop, whichever is the cleaner. Using a slippery fork, aim the mixture at an ovenproof baking dish which is slightly too small. Place the remainder in a non-ovenproof bowl and offer up prayers. Forget to preheat the oven to 200 degrees ten to fifteen minutes ago.
Pour the soup over the glop and sob at the meaninglessness of the urban experience. Lightly grate cheese and knuckles over the whole and transfer to the oven, which should be just hot enough to inflict a nasty burn. Check every five minutes, until Part Two comes on, at exactly which point the bake will assume a rich black crust. Remove from the oven, taking care to burn the other hand, and place on a surface likely to singe (melamine will suffice, but formica is serviceable).
Serve with a forced grin and garlic bread (for recipes, see pp. 94-146).
Note -- you may also wish to cook the second bowl, although I prefer to forget this too, in order to be greeted by it later just as the oven has cooled.
with apologies to Tom "Delia's Toasties" Witney
Ingredients
1 dishful pasta (roughly)
Tuna, 1 small can
Frozen vegetable remnants
Condensed Soup
Method
Lightly overcook the pasta in water you meant to salt, but forgot. Drain, and put aside to become a gelatinous mass. While the pasta is congealing, defrost the frozen vegetables in the microwave at full power for approximately twice the time given on the pack, until they are steaming and inseparable from the bowl.
Open the soup (mushroom, but since you’ve already opened the chicken, that will do). Make up with water and milk (non-lumpy for preference) and heat until it boils over.
Place the pasta and vegetables in a large pan. Rotate the lumps together and spill generously on the floor or worktop, whichever is the cleaner. Using a slippery fork, aim the mixture at an ovenproof baking dish which is slightly too small. Place the remainder in a non-ovenproof bowl and offer up prayers. Forget to preheat the oven to 200 degrees ten to fifteen minutes ago.
Pour the soup over the glop and sob at the meaninglessness of the urban experience. Lightly grate cheese and knuckles over the whole and transfer to the oven, which should be just hot enough to inflict a nasty burn. Check every five minutes, until Part Two comes on, at exactly which point the bake will assume a rich black crust. Remove from the oven, taking care to burn the other hand, and place on a surface likely to singe (melamine will suffice, but formica is serviceable).
Serve with a forced grin and garlic bread (for recipes, see pp. 94-146).
Note -- you may also wish to cook the second bowl, although I prefer to forget this too, in order to be greeted by it later just as the oven has cooled.
Posted at 12:56 AM Read More
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Published On: Sep 13, 2004 08:15 PM
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Published On: Sep 13, 2004 08:15 PM