As you are all now aware, on this blog you are witnessing the freshly laundered thoughts of a recently aware 'New Man.' Not only am I the new master of the Roast Chicken but now I have conquered the dizzying Alpine Heights of 'Nosh-Up.'
(For the culinary curious, this comprises onions, green chillies, garlic, lean ground beef, carrots, potatoes and tinned tomatoes, a stock cube, Worcester sauce, salt and pepper.)
However. it has to be said, after three nights of 'Nosh Up' the novelty of being catered for in this gourmandising grandiose fashion is beginning to pall and tonight Lynnie said she "wasn't hungry... and what about this coming weekend?"
"This coming weekend?" I reply querulously.
"Yes. This Coming Weekend" (I have inserted the capitals here as I had the distinct impression that they Were Very Important.) "This weekend is a Bank Holiday so we could go away."
I am stunned. Middle stump completely blown away by a fearful full toss from Bob Willis in his majestic prime. I sit there at the dining table, my bat in splinters, dazed and speechless.
This is not how this evening was planned in my skull cinema. If we re-wind to just before Lynnie arrived home, in my skull cinema I had the table laid, the candles primed, and the three day old 'Nosh' up' whirring away in the fan oven. A nice red breathing, ready to be poured lovingly into nice big glasses and her favourite Hendrick's Gin all ready to be splashed over freshly crushed ice in tall frozen tumblers with fizzingly cold Indian Tonic Water and thin slivers of cucumber poised, ready to be bathed in the infusion.
As she was about to sample a forkful of mouth-watering nosh-up in her right hand and a wonderful Gigondas (carefully selected to complement the fiery stew) in her left, the candlelight flickering in our sixteenth century dining room, I was to casually mention that I might be enjoying the last of this summer's balmy evenings in the company of Wanda Warmlite with my little stove hissing warmth into my cooking pot as the sun settles in the deep bosom of Wessex as I try the first leg of the Greater Ridgeway during this coming weekend.
Tomorrow Morning's First Task is to Scour the Internet for a weekend away somewhere on the south coast. I wonder if she fancies a bit of a stroll from Lyme Regis?
No. I doubt it.
(For the culinary curious, this comprises onions, green chillies, garlic, lean ground beef, carrots, potatoes and tinned tomatoes, a stock cube, Worcester sauce, salt and pepper.)
However. it has to be said, after three nights of 'Nosh Up' the novelty of being catered for in this gourmandising grandiose fashion is beginning to pall and tonight Lynnie said she "wasn't hungry... and what about this coming weekend?"
"This coming weekend?" I reply querulously.
"Yes. This Coming Weekend" (I have inserted the capitals here as I had the distinct impression that they Were Very Important.) "This weekend is a Bank Holiday so we could go away."
I am stunned. Middle stump completely blown away by a fearful full toss from Bob Willis in his majestic prime. I sit there at the dining table, my bat in splinters, dazed and speechless.
This is not how this evening was planned in my skull cinema. If we re-wind to just before Lynnie arrived home, in my skull cinema I had the table laid, the candles primed, and the three day old 'Nosh' up' whirring away in the fan oven. A nice red breathing, ready to be poured lovingly into nice big glasses and her favourite Hendrick's Gin all ready to be splashed over freshly crushed ice in tall frozen tumblers with fizzingly cold Indian Tonic Water and thin slivers of cucumber poised, ready to be bathed in the infusion.
As she was about to sample a forkful of mouth-watering nosh-up in her right hand and a wonderful Gigondas (carefully selected to complement the fiery stew) in her left, the candlelight flickering in our sixteenth century dining room, I was to casually mention that I might be enjoying the last of this summer's balmy evenings in the company of Wanda Warmlite with my little stove hissing warmth into my cooking pot as the sun settles in the deep bosom of Wessex as I try the first leg of the Greater Ridgeway during this coming weekend.
Tomorrow Morning's First Task is to Scour the Internet for a weekend away somewhere on the south coast. I wonder if she fancies a bit of a stroll from Lyme Regis?
No. I doubt it.
well why not take Lynnie out for a wonder over Dartmoor (it's Southish) I may well be that way at the weekend with a tarp and Bush Buddy Ultra.
ReplyDeleteYou guys could B&B it.
I'm heading towards Wiltshire for a vaguely circular walk from Avebury, via Barbury and the Savernake Forest...
ReplyDeleteYou'll be lucky! The same thought happens to most of the SE of England around this time of year, and they don't find a lot of free beds for the night. Seems the same this year with trips abroad from what I've heard - available flights are looking highly reminiscene of Rocking Horse Poo.
ReplyDeleteIf you're passing by this way, feel free to pop by for a coffee and slice of buttered bun?
Commiserations!
ReplyDelete**offers chocolate**
Hey! Wanna come and live here and make those G&Ts for me? I promise to let you out with Wanda Warmlite on a fairly regular basis *g*
I could be feasting on coffee, buttered buns and chocolate: I would need to walk that off afterwards!
ReplyDeleteAnd offers of clandestine drinks parties too.
All exciting stuff.
:-)
Hmm - still need to sort out somewhere to go, or I am a dead man.
It's not going to come as a shock but I did a half ars*d trawl for B&B availability in the Avebury and unless one of the inns has a stable...
ReplyDeleteALan -if its any help the roads look quietish down in E Dorset this evening (Fri) which might indicate more people are staying at home this year.
ReplyDeleteSuccess!
ReplyDeleteI have just managed to book up a pretty smart place in Brighton for Saturday & Sunday night - I am no longer a Dead Man!
Alan - we are glad to hear it!
ReplyDeleteHave a great WE!!!
'We', David?
ReplyDeleteHas there been a bit of help from upstairs in my finding a room at the inn?
Could you have another word and look for one for poor ol' Baz, who is otherwise bedding down with the animals in the straw in Avebury?
Alan - the 'We' was actually Katie and I!
ReplyDeleteRegarding Baz's accommodation being in an Avebury stable with the animals - this would seem to be an ideal opportunity to find out what it might have been like for that other family many years ago. I wonder if a beast-filled stable is warmer than a bothy and if you can use animal poo as fuel to cook with a Bushbuddy?!?
Sadly no comment as I chucked a tent in boot of truck before we set off...
ReplyDelete