Woof woof
Another poor night's sleep, but slept in a little. Downstairs for leisurely cups of tea and coffee with Mum and Mas. Over breakfast, I was sent a lead from a friend for a client I'd love to work with, but as I followed it up during the day the opportunity had evaporated, still an interesting new contact. Ate toast chatted to Mas about his latest project which involves desalination of water, and mum gave me a lemon scented geranium, and drove me off to Mill Hill Station. The plant smelling lovely all the way down to Brighton.
Home fairly straightforwardly and back to work this afternoon, but not before eating a bowl of miso and noodle soup in the garden. There is a purple lilac tree at the bottom of the neighbour's garden which overhangs ours, and it is scented and gorgeous. The plants we put in the other day have survived, thanks to Lorraine putting in cat baffles such as circles cut from plastic bottles into the ground.
Lorraine and Beth both out this evening, so when Anton called I sloped off to meet him in the Joker, which had previously been called Circus Circus. I bumped into Adrian Turner again en route, and we paused to discuss foxes and badgers. The Joker sounds like some place characters from the Modern Toss cartoons would meet. Slow beers and good food from a narrow menu of chicken wings, chicken in a sandwich, salt beef sandwiches and fries. Anton asked me if I'd ever bitten into something which made me cry. Turns out that the heat grading on the chicken wings, of which there are five stages culminates in 'Viper'. Last week Anton and friend from work had two 'snake in the basket' dishes of mixed wings. They were sitting outside and bit into the lethal viper wings at the same time. Anton said they both began to cry instantly, go temporarily blind, and Anton was dancing from foot to foot and intermittently retching. At this moment Dawn walked by, who Anton hadn't seen for a few months, but he was unable to speak to her properly due to his various convulsions. She looked at him with some concern and I wish I'd been there.
Anton and I sensibly confined ourselves to Woof-Woof, only mid-way down the list and even for me, who loves a bit of chilli, found this sufficiently hot enough and when I'd finished eating only the steady intake of Heineken offered respite to my flaming mouth and lips. Other than this, Anton and I discussed many subjects. These included the general election, and the tetchy subject of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, which is one of Anton's favourite books of all time, and I think, much to his disgust, needed a hard edit. Both looking forward to the BBC adaptation starting at the weekend.
Homewards and I bumped again into Simon who I've worked with intermittently when I first was freelance, and I am now a neighbour of, and we arranged to meet up next week. Then home to Lorraine, who had just arrived. I had missed her just being away for a day, which I think is a bit sinister. We caught up with the news of the last couple of days. Beth home very late after an infuriating day and night spent waiting to be used as an extra, and in the end wasn't chosen. Luckily she still gets paid.
Below, degrees of heat. The description of the Viper apparently no overclaim.
Home fairly straightforwardly and back to work this afternoon, but not before eating a bowl of miso and noodle soup in the garden. There is a purple lilac tree at the bottom of the neighbour's garden which overhangs ours, and it is scented and gorgeous. The plants we put in the other day have survived, thanks to Lorraine putting in cat baffles such as circles cut from plastic bottles into the ground.
Lorraine and Beth both out this evening, so when Anton called I sloped off to meet him in the Joker, which had previously been called Circus Circus. I bumped into Adrian Turner again en route, and we paused to discuss foxes and badgers. The Joker sounds like some place characters from the Modern Toss cartoons would meet. Slow beers and good food from a narrow menu of chicken wings, chicken in a sandwich, salt beef sandwiches and fries. Anton asked me if I'd ever bitten into something which made me cry. Turns out that the heat grading on the chicken wings, of which there are five stages culminates in 'Viper'. Last week Anton and friend from work had two 'snake in the basket' dishes of mixed wings. They were sitting outside and bit into the lethal viper wings at the same time. Anton said they both began to cry instantly, go temporarily blind, and Anton was dancing from foot to foot and intermittently retching. At this moment Dawn walked by, who Anton hadn't seen for a few months, but he was unable to speak to her properly due to his various convulsions. She looked at him with some concern and I wish I'd been there.
Anton and I sensibly confined ourselves to Woof-Woof, only mid-way down the list and even for me, who loves a bit of chilli, found this sufficiently hot enough and when I'd finished eating only the steady intake of Heineken offered respite to my flaming mouth and lips. Other than this, Anton and I discussed many subjects. These included the general election, and the tetchy subject of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, which is one of Anton's favourite books of all time, and I think, much to his disgust, needed a hard edit. Both looking forward to the BBC adaptation starting at the weekend.
Homewards and I bumped again into Simon who I've worked with intermittently when I first was freelance, and I am now a neighbour of, and we arranged to meet up next week. Then home to Lorraine, who had just arrived. I had missed her just being away for a day, which I think is a bit sinister. We caught up with the news of the last couple of days. Beth home very late after an infuriating day and night spent waiting to be used as an extra, and in the end wasn't chosen. Luckily she still gets paid.
Below, degrees of heat. The description of the Viper apparently no overclaim.
Comments