Day 250: I Haven't Got Much To Say

Regular readers will be aware of Speed-O-Blog, a highly developed communications system that involves presenting largely irrelevant information in bite-sized chunks. Its advantage is obvious (to me, at least): rather than having to find something interesting to say, I merely present a kind of 'pick 'n' mix' selection of information, none of which has to be connected in any way. Some people call it lazy; I call it The Sunday Evening Variety Show.

I See The Worst Jeans In Europe

My readers are intelligent people with exquisite taste. That is why they love this blog with all their heart and return to it day after day, gasping with desire to find out what utter cock I have posted that morning. There is therefore no need to explain why these jeans are so bad; if there is, I suggest you find another blog to read, or perhaps check out the 3-packs of giant pantaloons at BHS.























I Make Soup

Regular readers will be aware of my ongoing vague attempt to stop being such a lardy larder. Happily, some months ago I discovered a revolutionary new diet: if you eat less and move around more, you will lose weight. If you drink a lot of dark beer, eat too much cheese and do not go to the gym for a week, you will stop losing weight. Astonishing, I am sure you will all agree!

Anyway, I eat a lot of soup. It's good, is soup. I make it in vats and take into the office. I eat it (with an enormous salad) every day in the basement at work with S, who lays the table while I parboil green beans and do things with goat's cheese and lentils.

This week's soup is a carrot-based concotion. However, having read a thing that went ON and ON about the myriad benefits of spinach, I bought a carrier-bag full and put it in. And then I tasted it and remembered that I HATE spinach! I HATE it! It has ruined my soup and made it taste like a horseshoe made of iron jelly has been melted into it! Does anyone know how to take the bitterness of spinach away? (Do not say sugar, I beg of you.) Here is a picture of it, in case you need inspiration:

























I drink coffee (and eat biscuits)

My ongoing project continues with some success! Here are the latest pictures; from the top:

1. A cup of coffee (and biscuit(s)) at work, provided by S; the biscuits were discarded, due to lardy larder-ness;
2. An espresso in my favourite restaurant;
3. A capuccino yesterday morning (no biscuit, but an interesting cup I thought you might enjoy. In the background: some excellent lemon curd and a very tart blackcurrant jam).


































































I Consider Stealing A Puppy

I do not like small animals (i.e., anything smaller than a pig). They make me nervous. And there is nothing - but nothing - I despise more than people swooning over their pets as if they are actual and literal humans. "He is so clever!", they cry. "He is a dog!", I think. "He is sad and upset about something!", they squeak. "He is a dog!", I say to myself. "Look how funny he is! He knows he is being funny!", they swoon. "He is an animal", I mutter to myself, sticking pins into a voodoo doll of my cat, who I wish were dead.

However, there is a puppy at work. He is called Tate, except I call him Tater. Tater enjoys sleeping on my capacious enbonpoint. He is very tiny, and will not get much bigger. He lives in a bag; on Friday he worked out how to get up stairs. He is approximately twice the size of a small can of Grolsch.

Here is the photographic evidence of the fact that he is a) quite small; b) quite appealing, despite being an animal.






I Wonder About Dutch Easter Traditions

Good lord!























I Identify Some More Questionable Words (And Expressions)

- bite-sized chunk
- moist pouch
- ramekin
- fondant
- cashews are fleshy
- jus
- gently lubricated
- buttered mould