It’s Sunday morning and there’s a beef casserole in the oven already, which will be at it’s yummiest, tastiest best in a few hours time when we get back from visiting Bath Cats and Dogs Home (oh, you know why! The search continues…).
Anyway, because I haven’t popped in here for over a week (but my stats prove that lots of you have; why oh why doesn’t anybody post a comment anymore?), here’s a catch-up list of the kind of stuff and nonsense that’s given me pause for thought over this past week:
Bart Spices’ Ras el Hanout (Moroccan spice mix, complete with rose petals). Even the chunky silver tin it comes in is gorgeous; £3.15 for 65g of store cupboard delight.
A dark pink, chiffon shift dress which was relegated to the back of my wardrobe as I was convinced I wouldn’t be able to fit into after overdosing on seasonal excess. Feeling masochistic, I tried it on. It fitted perfectly. Despite what that new advertising campaign plastered on the side of buses tells us, this event - alongside the 'Miracle on the Hudson River' - proves that there must actually be a God.
The weather. Yes, it’s cold. But oooh, it’s bracing! And it makes staying in even snugglier. A related bonus: when I dashed up to the local shops one morning last week, I sniffed the breeze and was suddenly reminded of stepping out of a warm hotel onto a freezing cold street in Canada, years ago. The memory inspired me to write a short story as soon as I got in. And writing short stories makes me really happy. Hoorah!
My niece and her boyfriend coming to stay. We went to eat at Jamie Oliver’s gaff and, despite rumours to the contrary, it’s still just as nice as it was when it first opened – in fact, it’s even better now the novelty has worn off. I just hope that none of the staff noticed that we stole two tea towels on the way out…
News that one of my bestest friends has been nominated for a BAFTA. I’m still not quite sure in what category etc because one of my other bestest friends - his missus, no less – hasn’t enlightened me; she’s probably too busy wondering what she’s going to wear for the ceremony (if you’re reading, KirkbyGirl, feel free to borrow the aforementioned pink chiffon shift…).
Attending the Great Australian Drag Show at Komedia on Friday evening: great company, great show.
And now, here’s a random observation that for some strange reason popped into my head this morning: why is it that, when you say the words New York to certain people, they seem to feel obliged to blurt “Noo Yoik!”, in what I imagine to be either (a) a demonstration that they’re really bored and therefore only half listening to what you’re saying or (b) some kind of weird proof that they think they know how people in New York say New York. If you completely ignore their parrot-style yakking and persist with the sentence, they annoyingly continue saying “Noo Yoik!”. If you pause and say, “yes, New York,”, they say ‘Noo Yoik!’ again. And if you shut up completely, there’s a really embarrassing silence. So I’m going to stop mentioning New York ever again to certain people.
There now follows one of those strange videos that can be found on YouTube, for which someone has cobbled together a collection of related images to go with the song in question, which in this case is my current number one, all-time favourite. For once, the images don’t let it down, so please click on it, and enjoy. And if I don’t get time to come back here meself until next week… have a good one, kids!