The Blessed Delia, Brain Fade, Butchers’ Shops and Marc Ching, Hero of Our Time

I have never been a keen follower of Delia Smith, though many, including my sister, are fans of her cooking. Some years ago she did a programme about vegetarian cookery and included anchovies among her ingredients. Then, as the debate heated up about intensively farmed animals, the cruelty involved and the health risks, she stuck her oar in to say that poorer families could only afford intensively farmed chicken, and my opinion of her sank to rock bottom. Poorer families would be better off eating healthier alternatives to this type of meat. Why Delia should think it is everyone’s right to eat chicken no matter how barbarously the meat is produced did not impress me.

Her slightly inebriated exhortations to her beloved Norwich City football team warmed my feelings towards her a little, but when I saw she had a piece in today’s Guardian about the tactics being used by our politicians over Brexit/Bremain, I didn’t expect much. So I was surprised, reading this, to find myself largely in agreement with her.

I have done a pretty good job reading the paper today. I am feeling fairly brain dead à la Natalie Bennett after eight demanding days at work on the trot. I thought I was physically tired too, but it’s my head that needs a rest, so it was good to put my feet up, open the newspaper and work my way through the sections and then cast them into the recycling bag.

I have added some hoops to my growbag to support the canes which in turn support the courgette and tomato plants. I am going to have to have an amazingly good crop to cover the cost of the hoops, but as the years go by and they continue in use, that price should be offset. Continue reading

Serene Sunday

Picture posting will have to wait until I get home. But from where I am stretched out in the fore cabin I have fine views of the changing skies. It looked like the heavens would open a little while ago, but the winds blew the grey clouds over and we had just a few drops of rain. MasterB is asleep and serene. He didn't like it when I left his sight and meted rather plaintively, so I have not carried out my plan for a short walk plus camera. Maybe in a few minutes.

Older Nephew may drop by with the new woman in his life, but it is fairly unlikely. I have done a good job on yesterday's paper, written some fiction, and feel incomparably lazy. Continue reading

One Enchanted Evening

The Camembert I bought was so ripe I am surprised it didn't board das Boot on its own. A lucky and completely chance find at the local Co-op. It made a very good dessert. So good I ate rather more of it than I intended, and am only now catching up with the red wine.

I only had one excursion away from das Boot and the marina today. I needed eggs and bread, so set off for the organic farm where the plants made me salivate. Celia hoped to come here on Sunday, but has been struck down by a vicious lurgy, so may have to postpone her visit. I took these pictures to tempt her, now they may serve for her to tell me what she wants me to bring back for her.

 

Continue reading