Aye. Well. Hibs. I didnae spit audibly there, now did I?
You’d looove my rendition of Delilah, dere, I promise. And it is a terrible deplorable song and all the rest of it, aye.
But why, why why, me Armrest?
Come on, we can delight the board with a duet.
Correction: we can perpetrate a duet. Not quite the same thing.
I did wonder whether it might be a handy disguise when egg collecting - though probably not. I’ve seen what just three chooks can do to a crow…
Why the thoughts of disguise? We had a A Moment earlier on, when we were caught raiding the nest box by Vicky, who is showing every sign of being true to the silkie side of her heritage - including highly-developed maternal instinct and very loud voice. Having started solo, she promptly scuttled off to fetch Tysie and Kiki, as Duty Roosters, and showed them the empty nest. So of course they joined in, which led to a general protest by all of them. You would not believe the amount of noise ten hens can make…
< evil chuckling >
oh, I think I might be persuaded to be credulous. You rotten egg-stealing barsteward, you. squaaawk.
“It may be a healthy and nutritious meal to you, but to us it’s family!”
Having watched tonight’s Masterchef, I would urge you to reassure all the feathered persons under your protection that their ‘family’ have nothing to fear from me. I may never eat again. Bleeugh.
Drink, though, that is entirely another thing. Yes, please.
A few years ago I read an article on competitive barbecueing, and I think it may apply to other competitive food too: because the judges are only going to take one bite of each thing, they have to load all the flavours into that one bite, and what you end up with is quite distinct from anything you might want to eat a whole plate of.
it’s actually blue out there
I just wonder how much of the forkful judges can taste as they shovel their mouths so full that mastication is impossible
Bacon butties ready folk
Loaves just going into the oven
It may well do. But probably not in the amateur cooks edition of Masterchef - I don’t think most of 'em think that way. Though far too many of the buggers think concealed egg yolk spurting out from stuff is a Lovely & Original Touch.
I was delighted when I discovered barbecue competitions were A Thing.
Went for a walk earlier, up in the farms + woods + golf course behind the house.
In 45-odd minutes, I saw 20 people, which is about 19.5 more than usual for that time of day. Stay indoors nerts.
‘Oo are you callin’ a Nert?
Whereas I went for a walk in the woods where I used to walk the DDD and met three whole people instead of the usual twenty or thirty, and all three had dogs with them.
I’m finding more people walking about than usual for obvious reasons. So I’ve been trying different routes to find less-frequented ones. Not surprisingly, people are choosing the scenic streets, by the canal or river so I find if you choose somewhere where most of the buildings are offices, then it’s quieter.
To be fair, I could simply walk along the main road; it’s justabout empty, even though I was driving on it in what is usually a fairly horrific rush-hour.
Well, the birds were enjoying the day.
That certainly got the Oaf’s attention, Sparrer. Sair affrontit, he was. Pursed his whiskers at me. Which is quite the sight to see, actually.
Some bastards are lucky there is Social Distancing and I am a physical coward. Someone up the road was beating their dog, brutally.
I yelled loud enough (I have quite a good command voice when necessary) for it to stop, or at least be taken indoors. But I don’t know their house number. What can I do?
Oh, I’m so sorry that happened, how awful!
Even a normal scarf can prevent accidental inhalation of cast-off blood during the beating.
So I hear.
Sparrer, I have seldom felt more like murdering someone in my life. But - what CAN I do? I suppose I can report to the RSPCA with a ‘it’s between house numbers x & y’. Which will achieve precisely fuck-all.
Oh Gus, how dreadful. I can’t think of anything but the RSPCA either, I only wish I could.