Measure for measure

The old tempus fugit does it not? It seems like only a week since I was writing about the passing of a weekend, and here I am again.

We had, overall, a good weekend, I think. We didn’t get up to much other than play shed loads of warcraft, but that was quite fun. The bursts of heavy rain kept us out of the garden on Saturday, but at the same time, seems to hastened the ripening of the tomatoes (we have four ripe with shed loads on the way!) and the chilli peppers. Tonight I think Furtle is planning on making a huge chilli that we can freeze. I suspect that as the crop comes in, we will be trying to think of new and flavoursome ways of preserving stuff.

Operation cherry vodka has moved to phase two. We have decanted off the vodka, which seems to be separating out into a deep red-orange on top and a lighter, almost peachy orange below as it settles. The cherries, suitably steeped, have been buried in sugar and the container sealed. After only two days, the sugar is leeching the juice from them into rather interesting looking liquor that will, in due course, be decanted back into the main vodka. Then we add more sugar until osmosis has taken everything it can get from the cherries. Quite what we do with them then, I don’t know. We should have cherry vodka and a heap of desiccated, but very sweet cherries. Ideas, anyone?

There has been technical progress in restoring our wifi. I mucked about with it last night to very little avail and then used a compass to press the small recessed button on the router to restore factory settings. Et voilà! wifi: working wifi! It was still working this morning, so I am hopeful. Now if only I knew what took the router off its factory settings in the first place…?

There is a touch of a worry beginning to insinuate itself into our collective conscious. Many months ago – certainly well before last Christmas, I obtained tickets for the Moody Blues’ upcoming gig at the O2. We received them ages ago – I recall being surprised that they were being distributed so many months in advance, but now we can’t find them. We still have a month or so to search, but the beginnings of the nagging horror are there. It won’t end the world if we miss the concert, but it would be annoying and this may well be the only chance I ever get to see them. Oh well. Fingers crossed.

Finally, wandering into the darkened bedroom last night, flushed with the triumph that comes from inadvertently fixing the router, I encountered a sleepy voice in the shadows. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see an arm sticking out from under the duvet, pointing at the ceiling. A quiet, sleepy little voice asked, “are we the only people in here?” I confirmed that we were, to which the sleepy voice responded, “Good. I am just measuring.”

Thus ended the weekend.

Measure for measure

The old tempus fugit does it not? It seems like only a week since I was writing about the passing of a weekend, and here I am again.

We had, overall, a good weekend, I think. We didn’t get up to much other than play shed loads of warcraft, but that was quite fun. The bursts of heavy rain kept us out of the garden on Saturday, but at the same time, seems to hastened the ripening of the tomatoes (we have four ripe with shed loads on the way!) and the chilli peppers. Tonight I think Furtle is planning on making a huge chilli that we can freeze. I suspect that as the crop comes in, we will be trying to think of new and flavoursome ways of preserving stuff.

Operation cherry vodka has moved to phase two. We have decanted off the vodka, which seems to be separating out into a deep red-orange on top and a lighter, almost peachy orange below as it settles. The cherries, suitably steeped, have been buried in sugar and the container sealed. After only two days, the sugar is leeching the juice from them into rather interesting looking liquor that will, in due course, be decanted back into the main vodka. Then we add more sugar until osmosis has taken everything it can get from the cherries. Quite what we do with them then, I don’t know. We should have cherry vodka and a heap of desiccated, but very sweet cherries. Ideas, anyone?

There has been technical progress in restoring our wifi. I mucked about with it last night to very little avail and then used a compass to press the small recessed button on the router to restore factory settings. Et voilà! wifi: working wifi! It was still working this morning, so I am hopeful. Now if only I knew what took the router off its factory settings in the first place…?

There is a touch of a worry beginning to insinuate itself into our collective conscious. Many months ago – certainly well before last Christmas, I obtained tickets for the Moody Blues’ upcoming gig at the O2. We received them ages ago – I recall being surprised that they were being distributed so many months in advance, but now we can’t find them. We still have a month or so to search, but the beginnings of the nagging horror are there. It won’t end the world if we miss the concert, but it would be annoying and this may well be the only chance I ever get to see them. Oh well. Fingers crossed.

Finally, wandering into the darkened bedroom last night, flushed with the triumph that comes from inadvertently fixing the router, I encountered a sleepy voice in the shadows. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see an arm sticking out from under the duvet, pointing at the ceiling. A quiet, sleepy little voice asked, “are we the only people in here?” I confirmed that we were, to which the sleepy voice responded, “Good. I am just measuring.”

Thus ended the weekend.

Another helping so soon?

I have to go to Whetstone this afternoon for a visit to the Quack, having spectacularly failed to find¹ a local doctor in Ilford. The downside is that it is a bit of a trek up there and back before going to Ilford, the upside is that I can nip into Waitrose and buy some chilli oil!

I really ought to get my act together; the Whetstone practice won’t keep me on their books forever and I do need my blood pressure meddies. I say need; I feel exactly the same whether I take them or not, but then that’s hypertension for you, I suppose: until something goes sproing in the back of your head, you feel fine.

I noticed at the weekend, that I am coming close to being able to take my belt in another notch – I’m not quite there yet, without making my eyes bulge, but a couple of months ago it wouldn’t even have been possible to contemplate making them pop at that setting, so progress – albeit slow – is being made. If I do manage that extra notch, I shall only have one more to go on that belt before I have to find a smaller belt…

Let’s not count the chickens just yet, though. If I am not careful, anything I’ve lost over the summer will waltz back on to my giblets in the winter.



¹I suppose “failed to try to find” would be more accurate. I had a cursory look on the web for local surgeries to try registering with and then ran out of steam.

Another helping so soon?

I have to go to Whetstone this afternoon for a visit to the Quack, having spectacularly failed to find¹ a local doctor in Ilford. The downside is that it is a bit of a trek up there and back before going to Ilford, the upside is that I can nip into Waitrose and buy some chilli oil!

I really ought to get my act together; the Whetstone practice won’t keep me on their books forever and I do need my blood pressure meddies. I say need; I feel exactly the same whether I take them or not, but then that’s hypertension for you, I suppose: until something goes sproing in the back of your head, you feel fine.

I noticed at the weekend, that I am coming close to being able to take my belt in another notch – I’m not quite there yet, without making my eyes bulge, but a couple of months ago it wouldn’t even have been possible to contemplate making them pop at that setting, so progress – albeit slow – is being made. If I do manage that extra notch, I shall only have one more to go on that belt before I have to find a smaller belt…

Let’s not count the chickens just yet, though. If I am not careful, anything I’ve lost over the summer will waltz back on to my giblets in the winter.



¹I suppose “failed to try to find” would be more accurate. I had a cursory look on the web for local surgeries to try registering with and then ran out of steam.