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Sunday Afternoon
Sunday, October 9th, 2011 12:31 pmIt is Sunday and I am Home Alone. Furtle is off in Writtle helping the youngest of the clan unpack after her move from Scotland. It remains to be seen if Furtle is coming home tonight or tomorrow. Either way, I think I may have Chinese for dinner. The world is my lobster.
Thus far, I have had a high value Sunday. I have eaten kippers for breakfast and fishy smell be damned. Furtle says I can eat kippers when she's here, but I know she's just being kind: she hates the smell of fish and there are few fishy treats more stinky than kippers.
In addition to this culinary delight, I have rewatched the Dr Who finale on iPlayer and enjoyed it all over again (last night I watched the first Matt Smith episode, the Eleventh Hour and enjoyed that, too. I was surprised - it being the first time I'd watched it since it was broadcast first time around, to hear Prisoner Zero tell him that "Silence Will Fall", so that's a hint two years ahead of time. I wonder if there are further hints hidden away in other, earlier Moffat stories?
Let's see, what else? Oh yes. I have boiled and honey roasted a ham. It's cooling downstairs as I type. I fancy there will be much eating of the pig over the next few lunchtimes, provided I manage to remember to make and take sandwiches for lunch in the office. I am trying to cut down expenditure, you see. Pay off credit cards and all that sort of thing. This means reining in avoidable expenditure, without denying myself everything. So I can either make sarnies at home and take them to work, or I can buy them in the shop. But if I buy them in the shop, I have to reduce my pennies outgoing on everything else to remain in budget. I rather fancy being able to splurge the odd conker if the pub or in Forbidden Planet, so as far as my memory allows, I shall make my own lunches and perhaps stop buying a newspaper of a morning. That's a reduction of £4 a day already.
As I sit here typing and listening to Wogan on the radio, I find myself wondering what to do with my afternoon. I have to nip out and buy a loaf of bread and some milk, but other than that I have no plans. The world is my lobster.
Thus far, I have had a high value Sunday. I have eaten kippers for breakfast and fishy smell be damned. Furtle says I can eat kippers when she's here, but I know she's just being kind: she hates the smell of fish and there are few fishy treats more stinky than kippers.
In addition to this culinary delight, I have rewatched the Dr Who finale on iPlayer and enjoyed it all over again (last night I watched the first Matt Smith episode, the Eleventh Hour and enjoyed that, too. I was surprised - it being the first time I'd watched it since it was broadcast first time around, to hear Prisoner Zero tell him that "Silence Will Fall", so that's a hint two years ahead of time. I wonder if there are further hints hidden away in other, earlier Moffat stories?
Let's see, what else? Oh yes. I have boiled and honey roasted a ham. It's cooling downstairs as I type. I fancy there will be much eating of the pig over the next few lunchtimes, provided I manage to remember to make and take sandwiches for lunch in the office. I am trying to cut down expenditure, you see. Pay off credit cards and all that sort of thing. This means reining in avoidable expenditure, without denying myself everything. So I can either make sarnies at home and take them to work, or I can buy them in the shop. But if I buy them in the shop, I have to reduce my pennies outgoing on everything else to remain in budget. I rather fancy being able to splurge the odd conker if the pub or in Forbidden Planet, so as far as my memory allows, I shall make my own lunches and perhaps stop buying a newspaper of a morning. That's a reduction of £4 a day already.
As I sit here typing and listening to Wogan on the radio, I find myself wondering what to do with my afternoon. I have to nip out and buy a loaf of bread and some milk, but other than that I have no plans. The world is my lobster.