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Of chards and men
Nov. 30th, 2008 02:04 amEarly today, early being the time I usually wake up on a week-end, when the church bells ring Vespers and the sun darts its ethereal fingers across the horizon in beautiful shades of violets and reds, or would, if there were any sun fingers to be seen in this blasted country, early today I was making myself a fine cup of chicory.
Chicory is to tea what a dejected Masai warrior is to a teenage emo with a man-purse. It's thick, black, strong, bitter, and hides its great sweetness and depth deep inside, where it can only be found by a few very trusted friends and ladies of spiritual importance. Tea's all right if your idea of a good time is watching 'Dirty Dancing' on poppers, I suppose, I'm not here to judge.
Cup of chicory firmly in hand, and after hurling a few invectives towards the builders noisily redoing the upstairs flat - they were playing Dvorak's 9th Symphony by von Karajan really loud, when it's a fact Claudio Abbado's version is a thousand times better, the pigs - I ventured to the garden to greet the SO. She likes to garden, she does, and autumn is a good time for leafy roots to spice up a warm meal on an otherwise warmless day, please tell me what year the sun is next supposed to appear, I'll make sure to still be in the country.
It's not really a big garden, being in Camden, and much of the soil is taken by exotics like fig trees and palms, but there's a little square of ground that's fit for growing vegetables. The current ones include a few different types of fire-coloured cabbages, sweet radishes, and, to my dismay, chards. It's not that I don't like chards, it's just that they're a species that you sample once a year and then bid goodbye til the next, a bit like the cheek of the stubbly great-aunt in the New Year.
And it seemed to be that time of the year, because the SO had a particularly rooty specimen impaled on top of her spade, chard juice slowly running down towards the basket holding its recently deceased extended family. Tragedy not only befalls the best of us.
"Hello, darling", she said. "The chards were all ready to pick, so now we have to eat them. How about a chard pie, chard a la Bordelaise, chard sorbet, pot-au-feu of chard, and a nice Chardenstrudel for dinner?" (I'm paraphrasing, you get the spirit)
"I think I'll skip on this, thanks. I got 12 kilograms of cheese in the fridge and the neighbours complained it was setting off their fire alarm."
"Oh, I know, we can have a chard fondue, too!"
"No, really, I'm fine with the cheese. Really."
"Chard souffle on a bed of chard Marengo, truffles, and chards? It has cheese!"
"Hrmmmmm..."
"But chards are delicious! Everyone loves chards! UNESCO declared chards Heritage of Humanity, Gordon Ramsay wrote six books about chards, and both Cosmopolitan AND Metal Hammer's latest issues are solely composed of chard recipes! You can never have too many chards!"
"You don't read either Cosmopolitan or Metal Hammer", I pointed out.
It went on like that for quite a while. In the end, I am ashamed to admit, I conceded. Maybe I need to get a man-purse.
"All right, I will have *one* chard", I said, pointing to the helpless impaled green. "This one. Just one. OK?"
"Very fine, it is a perfectly acceptable compromise", she replied.
And the world was well, and the sun nearly decided to plan on showing up, and they were merry and drank a lot.
Morality:
I don't share your greed, the only chard I need is on the SO's spade
Chicory is to tea what a dejected Masai warrior is to a teenage emo with a man-purse. It's thick, black, strong, bitter, and hides its great sweetness and depth deep inside, where it can only be found by a few very trusted friends and ladies of spiritual importance. Tea's all right if your idea of a good time is watching 'Dirty Dancing' on poppers, I suppose, I'm not here to judge.
Cup of chicory firmly in hand, and after hurling a few invectives towards the builders noisily redoing the upstairs flat - they were playing Dvorak's 9th Symphony by von Karajan really loud, when it's a fact Claudio Abbado's version is a thousand times better, the pigs - I ventured to the garden to greet the SO. She likes to garden, she does, and autumn is a good time for leafy roots to spice up a warm meal on an otherwise warmless day, please tell me what year the sun is next supposed to appear, I'll make sure to still be in the country.
It's not really a big garden, being in Camden, and much of the soil is taken by exotics like fig trees and palms, but there's a little square of ground that's fit for growing vegetables. The current ones include a few different types of fire-coloured cabbages, sweet radishes, and, to my dismay, chards. It's not that I don't like chards, it's just that they're a species that you sample once a year and then bid goodbye til the next, a bit like the cheek of the stubbly great-aunt in the New Year.
And it seemed to be that time of the year, because the SO had a particularly rooty specimen impaled on top of her spade, chard juice slowly running down towards the basket holding its recently deceased extended family. Tragedy not only befalls the best of us.
"Hello, darling", she said. "The chards were all ready to pick, so now we have to eat them. How about a chard pie, chard a la Bordelaise, chard sorbet, pot-au-feu of chard, and a nice Chardenstrudel for dinner?" (I'm paraphrasing, you get the spirit)
"I think I'll skip on this, thanks. I got 12 kilograms of cheese in the fridge and the neighbours complained it was setting off their fire alarm."
"Oh, I know, we can have a chard fondue, too!"
"No, really, I'm fine with the cheese. Really."
"Chard souffle on a bed of chard Marengo, truffles, and chards? It has cheese!"
"Hrmmmmm..."
"But chards are delicious! Everyone loves chards! UNESCO declared chards Heritage of Humanity, Gordon Ramsay wrote six books about chards, and both Cosmopolitan AND Metal Hammer's latest issues are solely composed of chard recipes! You can never have too many chards!"
"You don't read either Cosmopolitan or Metal Hammer", I pointed out.
It went on like that for quite a while. In the end, I am ashamed to admit, I conceded. Maybe I need to get a man-purse.
"All right, I will have *one* chard", I said, pointing to the helpless impaled green. "This one. Just one. OK?"
"Very fine, it is a perfectly acceptable compromise", she replied.
And the world was well, and the sun nearly decided to plan on showing up, and they were merry and drank a lot.
Morality:
I don't share your greed, the only chard I need is on the SO's spade
Ýðu háve ænrag'd me
Jun. 12th, 2008 11:41 am6 children were struck by lightning in the French village of Thor. I shouldn't laugh about that, should I?
Anyone interested in an art nouveau wardrobe, about 2m20 tall and 1m20 wide? It's made of mahogany, I think, and has a full-length mirror on the door. Will give away for sexual favours or a lemon pie.
I've also got some Ikea Stolmen shelves, customised to a lovely industrial look. I like them. No room for them in the new house, though.
i have eclectic tastes in furniture.
I've also got some Ikea Stolmen shelves, customised to a lovely industrial look. I like them. No room for them in the new house, though.
i have eclectic tastes in furniture.
I should have thought of that
Jul. 19th, 2007 01:04 pmIt is 1892. You are a commoner who married into nobility, but your husband died on the wedding night. Now, the rest of the family wants you out. FATALITY!
Best flash game ever: Victorian slapfight
Best flash game ever: Victorian slapfight
(no subject)
Jun. 12th, 2007 10:01 pmI may well rent a warehouse. Some places have a kind of deal where you get the warehouse for a relatively cheap price, the landlord builds a kitchen/bathroom/whatever he doesn't mind, gives a month or three rent-free, and the tenants build the rest as they please, which is totally awesome in a design-your-own-house kind of way.
Of course, the tenants pay for most of the building, but since the contracts usually run for at least 3 or 5 years, it's still easily 10 or 15,000 pounds saved per person over living an average house - and for that saving you get to live in a 500sq metres flat, have a bedroom of 40sq metres, and plenty, plenty of space to play bowling, build a boat, store the Royal Theatre costume collection, or reenact Austerlitz with life-sized tin soldiers. 10 minutes away from a Zone 2 North London tube. With awesome people.
Speaking of which, we'd need 2 or 3 more to make it both cheap and lovingly familial. Are you awesome? Do you know someone who is? Would you like to live in a warehouse and be free and happy? All offers considered!
Of course, the tenants pay for most of the building, but since the contracts usually run for at least 3 or 5 years, it's still easily 10 or 15,000 pounds saved per person over living an average house - and for that saving you get to live in a 500sq metres flat, have a bedroom of 40sq metres, and plenty, plenty of space to play bowling, build a boat, store the Royal Theatre costume collection, or reenact Austerlitz with life-sized tin soldiers. 10 minutes away from a Zone 2 North London tube. With awesome people.
Speaking of which, we'd need 2 or 3 more to make it both cheap and lovingly familial. Are you awesome? Do you know someone who is? Would you like to live in a warehouse and be free and happy? All offers considered!
(no subject)
Jun. 4th, 2007 07:17 pmI'm moving in July, so I need a new housemate or two! I'll be looking for a spacey 2/3/4 bed house, quite possibly with a garden, somewhere on the Northern Line between Mornington Crescent and Highgate/Hampstead. I expect a rent of £600-700 a month per person, but I can go higher without much of a problem, since I'll need a bit of extra space for a workshop.
Drop me a mail if you're interested!
Drop me a mail if you're interested!
What can I do for my birthday, that doesn't cost much money? It's the last one of my 20s, so I'd like something more than just the pub. All my friends are poor, though, so as fun as skydiving sounds, no dice. No place to rent around London to suitably host a large party either.
So far, all I can think of is dressing up as a musketeer and taunting the guards at Buckingham Palace, and paintball in Elektrowerkz. Maybe even during Slimelight, that'd be really entertaining.
Anyone has a good idea?
So far, all I can think of is dressing up as a musketeer and taunting the guards at Buckingham Palace, and paintball in Elektrowerkz. Maybe even during Slimelight, that'd be really entertaining.
Anyone has a good idea?
A room in a church, part 3
Nov. 14th, 2006 11:54 amAs it happens, flatmate is returning to Italy, so there's a room available in the church from the 13th of December onwards. That's a pretty large fan-shaped room with en-suite bathroom in Archway, coming with the use of enjoyable electronic devices, entertaining guests, and a very cute and charming frog. The tube is 5 minutes away and on the Northern line zone 2 and 3, and there are about 20 night buses to choose from. I'd rather have someone who makes pretty things for a living, but then I'm open.
Rent depends on your income and the worthiness of your cause, but it'll be somewhere about 400 pounds a month for starving artists.
If you know someone interested, please pass this around, etc.
Rent depends on your income and the worthiness of your cause, but it'll be somewhere about 400 pounds a month for starving artists.
If you know someone interested, please pass this around, etc.
you were there when it happened
Sep. 18th, 2006 07:36 pmBionic limbs controlled by thought are now officially working without additional disfiguring surgery. So far they can move, and feel strokes and temperature; the next versions will include more precise tactile feedback. For some reason it didn't make the front page news, but I'll be cynical another day.
How fucking amazing is that?
How fucking amazing is that?
I won the 'Best Hack' award at Yahoo hack day! And it was for an AI job to weed out stupidity on Y! Answers, a personal victory of mine. I'm gloating like a peacock with solid gold feathers, but I'm all in it for the limelight and the groupies, so you shouldn't expect anything less.
Went to the Turkish barber in front of the house today, who decided to take my directions in the vaguest sense possible and improvised like a madman on the hair and beard. And it looks good! One third poncy model, one third musketeer, and one fourth Turkish homeboy, with trace elements. If I was gay I'd hit on me.
Then I won the best game of poker evah, coming back from a 20-1 deficit to the most incredible combination of cards and bluff that led poor Duncan to join the Cistercians. Also, I lost my soul to the Devil, but I got 30 quid, it was worth it.
And then, on the bus home, a bluesman was singing and playing a guitar with a broken string and a toothless smile up to his ears, and the rest of the bus was singing and dancing as well as they could amidst the jerks and swerves of the speeding vehicle, and everyone was happy.
Sometimes, London is good.
Then I won the best game of poker evah, coming back from a 20-1 deficit to the most incredible combination of cards and bluff that led poor Duncan to join the Cistercians. Also, I lost my soul to the Devil, but I got 30 quid, it was worth it.
And then, on the bus home, a bluesman was singing and playing a guitar with a broken string and a toothless smile up to his ears, and the rest of the bus was singing and dancing as well as they could amidst the jerks and swerves of the speeding vehicle, and everyone was happy.
Sometimes, London is good.
the naked and the bug
Feb. 9th, 2006 11:30 pmI am in bed with a stomach bug. It is rather attractively shaped, but pretended to have a headache. 'But you have no head!', I pointed out. 'I have several', it said, 'or several brains, to call it more properly. It runs in the family.' 'Brains? More like bags of ganglia. You couldn't fire a dendrite if you were Supreme CEO of Worldwide Dendrites Inc.' It bit me. That's when I decided to spike its breakfast with penicillin.
A poem for somebody who falls down a lot
Dec. 14th, 2005 08:56 pmIn a dark castle atop a spire,
The evil minds together conspire,
They plot's Man's demise, they ready their curse,
May crushing doom befall the universe!
The old virgin has poisoned his apple,
Orders the law to robust men cripple,
Bring down great temples, flatten the mountains,
Have the kind and the gentle yell in pain!
The atom-splitter makes it go further,
Inescapable to mind and matter,
Tear apart the stars, submit even time,
Turn the galaxies to ashes and grime!
They smirk, satisfied with their hateful deed,
Nothing can resist that can't beat light speed,
The law governs all, none will ever flee,
Gravity's a damn mighty enemy!
The evil minds together conspire,
They plot's Man's demise, they ready their curse,
May crushing doom befall the universe!
The old virgin has poisoned his apple,
Orders the law to robust men cripple,
Bring down great temples, flatten the mountains,
Have the kind and the gentle yell in pain!
The atom-splitter makes it go further,
Inescapable to mind and matter,
Tear apart the stars, submit even time,
Turn the galaxies to ashes and grime!
They smirk, satisfied with their hateful deed,
Nothing can resist that can't beat light speed,
The law governs all, none will ever flee,
Gravity's a damn mighty enemy!
