It's 8.45 as I write this and I am grimly aware of a long list of outstanding jobs to be done - beginning with my strip of grass in the Churchyard which, because of all that 'global warming' coming down as solid rain, I have not cut for over a month! It is now "as high as an elephant's eye" and I just know it's going to be a long and tiring job . Then there is the post-holiday car to be cleaned, followed by the garage to be cleared out and rubbish taken to the tip, and the garden, titchy though it be, has produced some of the most exotic weeds I have ever seen. I may never go away again!
In my preceding post I moaned about the murder of language at the hands of politicians who say 'black' when they mean 'white' and vice versa. This morning I heard extracts from various pols at the NATO meeting explaining how and why they had achieved absolute agreement on future planning for Afghanistan, no doubt about it, not a single dissenting voice, honestly, cross my heart and wish to die, no, really . . . ! It was ever thus but how one longs for, say, the 18th century where you didn't have to watch and listen to the lying liars. I found myself muttering , "Peace in our time, then, is it?"
My Spanish e-pal, Ortega, responded to the poke in the ribs I gave him during my piece on white asparagus. He came up with a novel suggestion for cooking the stuff. You peel it and then seal it in a bag which you place in boiling water. Apparently, that conserves the flavour but the drawback is that the water is of no use for making soup afterwards. I have spoken to the 'Memsahib' about cooking details. Apparently you must peel from about an inch down from the base of the 'flower' to the end of the stalk. Boil the water and add some salt, then chuck the peeled asparagus in for about ten minutes. I could not pin her down to an exact time, she just said, in that irritating way that women have, 'until it's cooked'! My favourite way to eat it is with new potatoes and pork schnitzels plus, of course, a large dollop of hollandaise sauce.
Sometimes sport reaches the parts other entertainments cannot. I am not a dedicated 'footie' fan, in fact, I am the very worst sort of fan, the dilletante type who only bothers to watch if it is, so to speak, a 'celebrity' match. Thus, I did watch Chelsea play Bayern Munich on Saturday and like all the very best sporting events the team that 'deserved' to win - lost! I write 'deserved' because Bayern had far more chances during their almost non-stop attacks than Chelsea but the aim of the game, so to speak, is to put the ball in the net and that they failed to do despite several opportunities, so it went to the lottery of penalties. Mind you, there was some delicious Schadenfreude to be enjoyed at the expense of the German goalkeeper who had the sort of tall, blonde, arrogant look of the sort of German one normally expects to see sticking out of the turret of a Mk. III Panzer demanding to know the way to Warsaw!
Very unfair, I know, because he's probably a very nice chap. Still, it was good to see him picking the ball out of the back of his own net, particularly as it was situated at the Bayern end of the stadium right in front of the massed ranks of their fans. Shame!
Well, I can't put it off any longer - the Churchyard calls!