Further ramblings of a self-made pauper

Long time members of my friends list will remember that back in my Clapham days I made soup. Lots of soup. Sturdy, vegetable soup; stuff that went down semi liquid and which transformed into breeze blocks.

A couple of years ago, I had another brief flurry of soup-making. I had forgotten this, but it is recorded here in this journal under the tag 'soup' in a way that the original occurrences are not. That is not to say that they are not recorded, simply that they are not tagged and that I cannot be bothered to look back across the mists of time to identify them. They too were sturdy soups, soups of character that had they legs, would have taken the cross and travelled the world extolling the virtues of roughage and good, honest living. They would have brooked no argument and cowed continents.

Today, I have made another.

Furtle and I have decided that we should attempt to get, if not fit, at least fitter. Lose some weight, pump iron, take something that is referred to by acolytes as exercise. That sort of thing. My motivations of course are entirely the wrong way around. Despite being a lardy boy with a not insignificant number of stones in weight, who should lose maybe a third of them simply to stave off a heart attack and perhaps even diabetes, I really wish simply to button up my leather jacket over a jumper if it gets cold. Being able to button up my leather jacket without the jumper would do, to be honest.

To this end, Furtle has devised an exercise and food plan - it is most definitely not a diet - that we intend to start implementing from tomorrow.

For my part, I have made the soup. There is enough for several days, I venture to think. Maybe longer. It is in the stockpot downstairs as I type. Cooling off and allowing the pearl barley to expand. I can hear it giggling and muttering to itself. Life has come full circle.

I think I've seized up; I need an oil change.

Lolled around watching telly last night, not that there was anything really worth the effort of viewing. I then made a soup. Having thrown away the parsnips and broccoli, none of which had appreciated the extended period of storage in the fridge, I was left with cabbage and onions. On their own, not tasty enough to make a decent soup, but with a can of tomatoes added, not so bad.

The trick is to blend the crap out of it all, add some pearl barley, garlic and Worcester Sauce and then simmer on the hob until it stops screaming. Then add as much stilton as you safely can. Stir it all in and let it melt. Voila. Oddly orange soup. Tasted all right, mind, especially with home made croutons (toast) and a cup of coffee.

This was consumed while watching some drivel on Channel 5 about the 50 best World Cup goals of all time. It passed the time while the soup cooled.

Afterwards I made my way to The Tower to listen to a little music. I thought I'd lounge and digest for a while, and then natter to My Girl^TM on MSN. Except that it was suddenly 3am and I was still dressed and slumped over the bed (upside down). It was at this point that I discovered that oddly orange soup makes you rusty. I don't think that I'd moved for near on 4 hours...

And so to bed. Only to wake at 6.30, and doze off again until the 7.30 alarm. All my joints need a shot of WD-40.

And I seem to have developed another cold, or maybe hay fever. I dunno. Maybe I'll lay off the oddly orange soup in future.

But it was rather tasty, and there's quite a bit left...

Yesterday I bought a very nice Moulinex blender RRP £44.99 for £19.99.

Hurrah.

I can now institute my much delayed lose weight programme, which involves replacing food with vegetables. These will be ingested largely in the form of soup. I have done this before and it works, though sticking with the regime is tough. If I can manage it for a few weeks there should be a noticeable difference¹.

I have yet to remove the blender from its packaging but I am confident that it will suit my needs perfectly.

To that end I have been out and have purchased broccoli, cabbage, parsnips and pearl barley. I already have some other stuff so I should be able to create some kind of edible gloop. I did it a couple of years back, I should not have forgotten the entire range of vegetable destruction in the meantime. Readers should be aware that I am not averse to eating vegetables, it is merely their unprocessed state that appalls me. I eat a great deal of vegetable matter; I simply like it to be processed into an animal first. Going back to basics like this is therefore a tremendous step.

Soup-making is only one function of the humble blender, of course. While out and about and vegetabling, I find that I am now the proud owner of three limes, a pound of sugar, two pounds of strawberries, a pound of raspberries and a bottle of rum. Daiquiris are vegetables too², and I seem to have the fixings.

I need ice.

Oh dear.

¹Readers should be aware of the obligatory lack of conviction in this statement, but hey ho...

²They must be; look at the ingredients: no meat there!