The Ides are coming

Well, here we are. It is 1st of March already: Taffy’s Day. I could have celebrated by pinning a daffodil or a leak to my lapel, but since I habitually forget a red rose for St George’s, avoid Paddy’s Day like the plague and wouldn’t wear a haggis on St Andrew’s Day if you paid me, it seemed rather pointless. Plus I forgot and haven’t seen any purveyors of daffs or leaks today anyway.

There are two things that I have noticed today, though – firstly, London is oddly quiet. There are very few people in evidence by the city’s standards and the tube was only sparsely populated. In Victoria, by contrast, there is clearly a bumper crop of homeless and care in the community cases floating around. I guess the hostels are kicking them out to fumigate and spring clean. In the meantime the incidence of Mad Hatter impressions will undoubtedly peak over the next few days. I have already had to avoid one case who was bouncing up and down chattering to himself with excitement as the red man changed to green at the crossing on Wilton Street.

Maybe it’s all sponsored by Disney.

Anyway. A mixed weekend disappears into the past. Friday night was a charity quiz –well, a sort of charity quiz. The event was held on behalf of a local kids’ football team and took up the 8pm to midnight slot on Friday evening. Our team won, making that two quiz wins in as many days, though second time around we won a cup which we had just long enough to get photographic evidence before it was whipped away to go back into the clubhouse trophy cabinet. The cup was reversed for the photographs, since are clearly not the champions of the local youth league.

Saturday was up and out to Marlow, where I ended up playing an interminable game of 1856 – a railway building and share dealing game set in the Great Lakes area of Canada in er, 1856 and later. Over the years we have played this game to death, but not so much recently, so it just became literally endless and we gave up just before midnight and failed to watch Iron Man on DVD. Mine host announced that he was too tired to watch a 2 hour movie and would shortly be turning in. Of course, by 1:30 when he finally did so, we would have pretty much finished the movie anyway. Oh well.

Back home on Sunday afternoon, some pootling on the computer, a splendid chicken dinner with Furtle and three episodes of The Wire season 4 on DVD before turning in. I tackled my hair with the clippers before bed. I briefly considered a home perm and highlights, for my golden tresses are sadly neglected, but in the end I just went for the usual attack of the clippers followed by a slight shine.

And thus ended February. That’s a sixth of the year gone already.

The Ides are coming

Well, here we are. It is 1st of March already: Taffy’s Day. I could have celebrated by pinning a daffodil or a leak to my lapel, but since I habitually forget a red rose for St George’s, avoid Paddy’s Day like the plague and wouldn’t wear a haggis on St Andrew’s Day if you paid me, it seemed rather pointless. Plus I forgot and haven’t seen any purveyors of daffs or leaks today anyway.

There are two things that I have noticed today, though – firstly, London is oddly quiet. There are very few people in evidence by the city’s standards and the tube was only sparsely populated. In Victoria, by contrast, there is clearly a bumper crop of homeless and care in the community cases floating around. I guess the hostels are kicking them out to fumigate and spring clean. In the meantime the incidence of Mad Hatter impressions will undoubtedly peak over the next few days. I have already had to avoid one case who was bouncing up and down chattering to himself with excitement as the red man changed to green at the crossing on Wilton Street.

Maybe it’s all sponsored by Disney.

Anyway. A mixed weekend disappears into the past. Friday night was a charity quiz –well, a sort of charity quiz. The event was held on behalf of a local kids’ football team and took up the 8pm to midnight slot on Friday evening. Our team won, making that two quiz wins in as many days, though second time around we won a cup which we had just long enough to get photographic evidence before it was whipped away to go back into the clubhouse trophy cabinet. The cup was reversed for the photographs, since are clearly not the champions of the local youth league.

Saturday was up and out to Marlow, where I ended up playing an interminable game of 1856 – a railway building and share dealing game set in the Great Lakes area of Canada in er, 1856 and later. Over the years we have played this game to death, but not so much recently, so it just became literally endless and we gave up just before midnight and failed to watch Iron Man on DVD. Mine host announced that he was too tired to watch a 2 hour movie and would shortly be turning in. Of course, by 1:30 when he finally did so, we would have pretty much finished the movie anyway. Oh well.

Back home on Sunday afternoon, some pootling on the computer, a splendid chicken dinner with Furtle and three episodes of The Wire season 4 on DVD before turning in. I tackled my hair with the clippers before bed. I briefly considered a home perm and highlights, for my golden tresses are sadly neglected, but in the end I just went for the usual attack of the clippers followed by a slight shine.

And thus ended February. That’s a sixth of the year gone already.

Olympics

Ah, the Winter Olympics are over. Finally. That means that BBC programming will revert to its usual monotony instead of the specialist sports monotony that it's been broadcasting morning, noon and night for the past two weeks.

Well done, Canada for both hosting and (I believe) topping the medals table. Well done to anyone else who won anything and commiserations to those who won not a jot.

Next up then, is the rather more important World Cup in the summer, followed by increasing build up to the the slow car crash that is the London Olympics 2012. I shall have to stock up on DVDs for that fortnight (though perversely we may go and see a couple of events since it's my council tax partly paying for the huge cost over runs).

Olympics

Ah, the Winter Olympics are over. Finally. That means that BBC programming will revert to its usual monotony instead of the specialist sports monotony that it's been broadcasting morning, noon and night for the past two weeks.

Well done, Canada for both hosting and (I believe) topping the medals table. Well done to anyone else who won anything and commiserations to those who won not a jot.

Next up then, is the rather more important World Cup in the summer, followed by increasing build up to the the slow car crash that is the London Olympics 2012. I shall have to stock up on DVDs for that fortnight (though perversely we may go and see a couple of events since it's my council tax partly paying for the huge cost over runs).

Haute Cuisine

In my occasional role as Domestic God, I am cooking chicken in leek and Wensleydale sauce (admittedly all pre-prepared, though the chucky starts raw, so there...) and home made Potatoes Dauphinoises.

These latter I have peeled, sliced, parboiled, schlooped in creme fraiche and am now baking on a bed of garlic and onion, topped over with grated cheese and seasoning. I done that me self. We're having peas, too.

If you never hear from either ellefurtle or me ever again, you know I was off by a couple of decimal places in the cooking calculations.

Haute Cuisine

In my occasional role as Domestic God, I am cooking chicken in leek and Wensleydale sauce (admittedly all pre-prepared, though the chucky starts raw, so there...) and home made Potatoes Dauphinoises.

These latter I have peeled, sliced, parboiled, schlooped in creme fraiche and am now baking on a bed of garlic and onion, topped over with grated cheese and seasoning. I done that me self. We're having peas, too.

If you never hear from either ellefurtle or me ever again, you know I was off by a couple of decimal places in the cooking calculations.