Quelle nuit!
Extraordinary night at our Taxi! event @VPL. Such big love from Taxi! readers! Thank you so much to everybody for coming out and participating. Thank you so much to our amazing contributors and to Helen Potrebenko for writing the book. It was a very special event and night and I will cherish it for a longtime calling.
Full report to follow!
The Gordon Brown “bigot” incident is almost like a window wiper to the face. What ever the face maybe saying … swissssh. Fascinating how “set-up” such interactions are between politicians and the electorate, but more creepy was the way he tried to hook her over being a granny… “family doing well? Will your grandchildren go to university…” He’s almost chasing her with “press friendly on theme question”.
Rochdale now on the map and not just because you’re related to someone there!
Little sleep got. Where does sleep go that is lost? There needs to be some insomniac abacus that keeps a record and returns it you some other way. Extra strawberries on a plant or that when it rains, a little patch would refuse to rain on you, or that a bird would sit that little bit longer on a tree and let you look at him.
Yesterday I attended an interesting forum at the cemetery called Final Disposition. On the way home I passed a table outside a charity shop and bought a novel in French for a friend. An hour later I passed the table again and noticed a title by the recently deceased Michael Foot. A biography of Aneurin Bevan. I had to0 much to carry but couldn’t pass it. It cost 25 cents.
Early evening I learnt the writer Alan Sillitoe had died. (RIP)
The co-incidence of all occurring on a day so primed with mortality was like circulation.
Fan nomad
Not as disastrous as smoke suggested. There’s some disagreement with the basil that I believe has nothing to do with being in my oven. The front room is full of smoke which again has little to do with my cookery I am assured. Just a bit of cheek happening around here with all the elements….. my cooking being a blessing upon them. Giving them all something to heat up and smoke about. Go on ya pans, electricity …
Cupla nomad
I have a bad feeling about what is happening inside my oven right now. Am exerting extreme discipline to not approach its handle and inquire as I did on Tuesday evening when, having no bad feeling whatsoever, I pulled the darn thing open and billowing black smoke and unsatisfying noises came out to greet me. I remain utterly perplexed as to what could cause a lamb shephard’s pie to behave in such a manner.
There was some disagreement down below in the pyrex, some kind of hostile resistance between the chicken broth (error) and the lamb rest and it was shooting up and out and transforming the business into a kind of culinary gangland.
Today’s union or attempt at merger is just two pieces of a chicken and a bit of basil. (What the bloody hell can be going wrong in there?) I have put a hat on it and will just take a deep breath or wait for the smoke alarm to insist I open it.
Cookery is not something I will conquer in this lifetime. But it’s a great provider of odd and anxious momentitos.
I will not…
The left handed curve, the repetition, even the old hiss. Sunday morrow treat for those who enjoy the comfort of again and again or you can UBU the piece here in a larger screen