Index of Old Blog Postings

Google supply my Blog space free of charge and when I set up my blog I chose the format I wanted. After several weeks I noticed that whilst it listed my old blog postings it did not include the title of that particular posting. I don’t want to change my format as I like the way it looks and so the only way to let people see what the old titles are (not that they mean much anyway) is to list them in a posting of their own. So here, in this posting is a list of all the old blog postings so in future if you want to read about my chopper or my dislike of the French you should be able to find it easily.

29^th October 2008       Oink Oink

28^th October 2008       Alien ? Actually No - It’s a French Delicacy !

27^th October 2008       Home Alone Again

24^th October 2008       Lorne Sausage

23^rd October 2008       The French Revenge

21^st October 2008        Flaming Sambucas

18^th October 2008       Why Do We Do It ?

16^th October 2008       The ‘Boys’ From California....

15^th October 2008       Why Did They Wait Until I’d Left?

13^th October 2008       Here’s To The Heroes

12^th October 2008       The Daily Mail

11^th October 2008       The Restaurant

10^th October 2008       You Couldn’t Make It Up ……..

9^th October 2008         Onwards and Upwards

8^th October 2008         A Tale of Two Books

6^th October 2008         Antonio – The Italian Stallion

4^th October 2008         Inflation – The Pensioner’s Nemesis

3^rd October 2008         Deep Fried Mars Bars Please…..

30^th September 2008    Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

29^th September 2008    Gone In Sixty Seconds

27^th September 2008    Oh My God – She’s Killed Him….

26^th September 2008    A Velly Bad Splain.....

25^th September 2008    See Me - Am Ah Beautiful ?

24^th September 2008    Follow that car ..........

23^rd September 2008    Rip-Off Riviera

22^nd September 2008   I Live With A Spider

21^st September 2008    It’s Been A Funny Old Week....

18^th September 2008    Pure and Unadulterated Nostalgia……

15^th September 2008    You Know When You’re Getting Old Because…….. 

12^th September 2008    Time to Get My Chopper Out

10^th September 2008    Plague of Flies

9^th September 2008      What If …..?

7^th September 2008      What a Difference a Week Can Make

6^th September 2008      Fatherhood

2^nd September 2008     The End Might be Nigh

1^st September 2008      My Life and Other Animals

31^st August 2008          Real Food, Real Food

28^th August 2008          I’ve Got Insomnia or Was I Dreaming It ?

27^th August 2008          Obesity – Eliminated at a Stroke

26^th August 2008          Award for a Job Well Done – Canyoning !

23^rd August 2008          A Burst of Activity

22^nd August 2008         I’d Be As Sick As A Parrot

21^st August 2008          Cars and The French

20^th August 2008          Scarface…..

19^th August 2008          Home Alone…….Again

18^th August 2008          L’Hostellerie du Château

17^th August 2008          Shangri-La

13^th August 2008          The Fawlty Towers of Picauville

11^th August 2008          We’re Here Because of Unknown Heroes

10^th August 2008          French Fokkers

8th  August 2008          Going About

6th August 2008           Rangers FC…..R.I.P.

4th August 2008           Timothy Lewis Cupples

3rd August 2008          The Great British Press……………..

2nd August 2008          The Stigma of a Cloudy Pool ……

1st August 2008           Dead Man Walking……

29th July 2008              Sacre Bleue – it’s a Car park……..

28th July 2008 I’m Never Invited Back Again……

27th July 2008 Kids, Kids, Kids

26th July 2008 The Food Parcels Have Started Again……

25th July 2008 The Green Green Grass of Home……

24th July 2008 Sloop John B

23rd July 2008             Only Another 7 Years to Wait….

19th July 2008 What a Load of Crap

18th July 2008              Want to Play Around ?

17th July 2008 Move to Spain and I’ll Divorce

16th July 2008 C’mon – Answer The Question

15th July 2008 Middle Aged Spread on the Riviera

14th July 2008 Crime and Punishment

8th July 2008                The Missing Chateau

2nd July 2008               France without the French

29th June 2008             It’s All Gone

27th June 2008 Swimming, Stuffing and Snogging

26th June 2008            Women and Sport

25th June 2008            Lunches

24th June 2008 10 Years Younger

23rd June 2008            The Dead Magpie and My Feelings of Inadequacy

22nd June 2008           Cyclists and Guns

Oink Oink

When J and the sprogs left for Manchester last Saturday, the last thing my dear wife did was to go through the fridge and put all the food with sell-by dates which would expire before they got home, into a separate pile in a corner of the fridge. I was then instructed, not requested, instructed to make sure I worked my way through this pile of food and not to bother buying anything. 

As you may have read from Monday’s blog, Brian and Lynn were coming over on Monday night for dinner and as usual my portion control was somewhat over-optimistic and I was left with a mountain of mashed potatoes and cabbage. Now what else do you do with left over potatoes and cabbage but make bubble and squeak? 

So since Monday night I’ve been living on a diet of bubble and squeak (let’s call it B&S from now on) and a variety of packs of cooked ham. Now B&S – there’s not much you can do with it. I know that sometimes it’s a dish made after Xmas when there’s loads of interesting leftovers to use, but in this case, it was just mashed potatoes and rather veiny cabbage but after I’d cleaned the blender from teaching the cats a lesson, the mixture resulting from the two boring ingredients came out looking like a fish-cake mixture, obviously without the fishy bits. Sautéd gently it was delicious. 

The ham on the other hand was more challenging. Why J buys so many packs of ham I’ve no idea? There was ‘delicious cooked ham’ (translated from the French) and ‘extra-delicious cooked ham’. There was ‘Parisian cooked ham’ and ‘country ham – buy 4 slices and get two free’. There was ‘Casino own make cooked ham’ and ‘Special Leclerc cooked ham’. In fact there was a whole pig in my fridge, all piled up in one corner with instructions to me to eat the lot by the time they came home. Even Shadow is sick of it. I now try and disguise some of it by mixing it with his biscuits but he’s not stupid, he just spits it out. The cats who usually sneak onto the kitchen tops to scavenge whatever is there wont touch it – maybe they’ve read the sell-by date and don’t fancy chancing it. And so I’ve been experimenting at every meal. Delia’s been no help whatsoever. She came up trumps with the meatloaf recipe but try and find what to do with cooked ham in her books and you’ll find she’s not the culinary genius she’s supposed to be. 

I’ve sautéd it with spring onions. I’ve fried it. I’ve coated it in breadcrumbs and I’ve had it as it comes out of the packet. I’ve mixed it in with the B&S and I’ve cut it into thin strips. I’ve had it in sandwiches and on its own. I’m sick of it! I’m starting to look like a pig (no comments please) and I’m walking about the house grunting although maybe that’s because I’ve no-one to talk to. When I go outside to get something I just can’t help sticking my nose in the ground and doing a bit of snuffling. I’ve even been rolling about in the mud caused by the torrential rain we’ve had here over the last 2 days. J – you’ve got a lot to answer for.   

Alien ? Actually No - It's a French Delicacy !

I attended the wedding of my friends Simon and Nathalie on Saturday. It was held, not far from me in a beautiful hotel which has its own private chapel. The bride wore a stunning dress and most of the male guests wore top hats and tails. The blessing, conducted by some sort of lay vicar, was held in the beautiful 11^th century chapel with a harpist and violinist playing soft, romantic music. Candles and amazing flower decorations were everywhere. After the ceremony, champagne flowed freely as Linda, our resident, wedding photographer snapped everything and everybody. 

Then came the wedding dinner or reception if you wish to be pedantic. I’d been led to believe that the food at l’Abbeye was good but, in fact, it was a disappointment. The starter was foie gras (goose liver and you don’t want to know how it’s bred or harvested) interleaved with smoked duck slices but even I know not to serve foie gras cold, straight from the fridge. Maybe they were afraid that at room temperature the whole thing would start to break down into its constituent parts. Anyway, I noticed quite a few of the English guests leaving most of it which was a pity cause it was quite good. The main course was again, duck. Simply cooked and sliced quite thickly but even in the dim light of the restaurant it was clear that the chef had merely burnt the feathers of the duck and sliced it! It was virtually raw and again I noticed that nearly every English person left it in its entirety. A pity, because although the French, and about 50% of the guests were French, like their meat to have the blood pouring out of the flesh when they eat it, it’s common knowledge that the majority of English people prefer it cooked just a little more.

At our wedding in February I refused both duck and beef on the menu as French chefs do not like overcooking these meats despite the wishes of the customer. We chose a ‘trio of lamb’ and ‘advised’ the chef that the majority of people would prefer their lamb cooked just a little more than the French like it. We needn’t have worried. The chef and the maitre’d knows us and as it turned out, it was perfect. It was good to see empty plates. 

However it has not always been thus. When I took over a hotel in the mountains for my 50^th, the food was very definitely ‘of the region’. Again, foie gras to start which quite a few of the guests decided not to eat when they heard how it was made followed by braised wild boar. Now, sanglier as they call it here, is a particular delicacy in the mountains but it has to be braised slowly because it can be a very tough meat. When people heard that it was boar many left it not even trying it which was disappointing. Many of those who did try it, found it to be too ‘gamey’ for their liking. Others wolfed it down….it’s only wild pig after all. 

On another occasion when J and I travelled down through France many years ago, we stopped at a small village with only one tiny restaurant. It was lunchtime and they only had two main courses on the menu. Pork or Andouillette. I chose the pork because I had no idea what the other thing was but, being brave, J chose it. My pork was fine but J got a sausage skin full of what looked like all the droppings off of the butcher’s floor. It looked disgusting and according to J, tasted the same. Neither she nor I have ever ordered it since but the French love it. It’s actually an intestine stuffed with all sorts of bits of animals – yuck! 

On the way back north, and being late we arrived at our B&B to find the restaurant closing. All they could offer us was a two-course meal which I thought was good of them given that it was approaching 10pm until the waiter explained what it was…..nest of starling (i.e. baby starling) paté followed by braised rabbit. Yuck – we went to bed hungry. Vive la difference! 

Here’s a blog posting about somebody else’s experience of eating an adouillette. 

http://mcmuffin.co.uk/mr_and_mrs_mcmuffin/2005/10/andouillette.html

Home Alone Again

Well, I’m doing my McAuley Culkin again. Left to my own devices for a week whilst J and the sprogs head off to rainy Manchester to see her parents, friends, other relatives and oh, of course, Mr Marks and Mrs Spencer. The Credit Crunch in the UK is about to come to an end as J buys up everything in sight. Problem is I gave her my bank card !

 Life changes drastically when I’m at home alone. The place is tidier for a start. No dirty knickers to fall over when I get up for a pee in the middle of the night. No lights left on in the middle of the day. The washing machine, which has an expensive delay mechanism to take advantage of low-cost overnight electricity, is actually being used in that way. The dog is fed and the cats are content as their milk saucer is regularly filled. The fridge is tidy and has stopped looking like something you’d find in a student squat. The sun has come out again and there was 8 hours of sport on the telly yesterday. I wasn’t ‘forced’ to watch ‘Strictly Come Prancing’ or the ‘X-Factory’. 

Today I shall go and get the food I need for tonight’s dinner party I’m hosting for some dear friends who will eat, drink and laugh. We’ll tell dirty jokes and drink maybe a little bit too much and wonder at the culinary correctness of my menu, which has been constructed without the ‘assistance’ of weightwatchers. A platter of Italian meats and then meat loaf and vegetables with loads of onion gravy, followed by Crepes Suzettes and Ice Cream. A selection of really fatty cheeses will finish us off. 

I’ll sit and gaze at Lynn, the most perfect woman in the world. She's tidy, doesn't leave her dirty knickers lying around (I know cause I spent a week at their house in Normany a month or so ago), she tidies up at night so that when her man comes down in the morning everything is spick and span and she just wants her man to be good in the bedroom, do the garden and some DIY (not necessarily in that order). I'll try and slip her husband, my good mate Brian, some dodgy toadstools to see if we can ‘hurry things along a bit’. Lynn has always told me that if she were free, she’d be happy to buy J out. What more could a man want – a women prepared to pay a transfer fee for the man of her dreams? J reckons about £2 million would do! Problem is she doesn’t know about my ‘reconstructive surgery’ last week but as she’s of Jewish extraction she might be quite pleased ? Who knows? I’ll keep you updated. 

Now in all seriousness – apart from the sport on telly bit, and even then J is very good about it – she actually tells me just before she switches it off – I do miss them. I missed them just after I dropped them off for their Sleazyjet flight to Liverpool. I missed them at the wedding I attended on Saturday evening. Although I knew quite a lot of people there, everyone was coupled up and I felt like the proverbial,’ spare xxxx at the wedding’.  I missed the kids fighting on Sunday morning when Kitty usually wants to watch ‘America’s next lesbian, one-legged, blind model’ whilst Guy wants to switch on Discovery Channel and catch up on his ‘Constructing Your Own Nuclear Generator’ programme. 

The animals miss them too. Particularly the cats who moan and moan for food every second of the day. J is very understanding and feeds and cuddles them – I just throw them in the blender! 

So, as I write my blog in bed at 4am, drinking coffee and eating apple flavoured biscuits (weightwatchers ?) I know my gorgeous family will be tucked up in a plush Travelodge somewhere in deepest Macclesfield, sleeping soundly. Either that or J has left the kids and gone off to a ‘Grab a Grandad night’ at the Valley Lodge or the infamous Bredbury Hall.

The picture is of Macclesfield Town Hall. Should you wish to go on holiday there. the following web-site might help.

http://www.macclesfield.gov.uk/standardpage.asp?pageid=135