Saturday, 25 July 2009

What do normal people do on a Saturday?

Devoid of any cycling based activities I have been finding other ways to fill my days recently. Chiefly these diversions have consisted of harvesting the bounty provided by our garden and the surrounding area and trying to turn it into something which might pass for food in a civilized environment. First on the list were the messianic mushrooms, so called because of their seemingly biblical powers of regeneration, we clear the field and come back the next day to find more. I managed to find a recipe for duxelles and pate, after a long time making the kitchen smell nice I produced something approximating a rich mushroom spread – it tasted nice when I hit it with a ridiculous amount of double cream and some white wine to make a pasta sauce but frankly anything with that much cream in had better taste nice.

Next up was bakin' bread – I like baking, mainly because I like bread and I like certain types of bread which you can't always buy easily. Case in point wholemeal raisin, date and pistachio bread which is very yummy when smeared with honey and peanut butter. I used a basic wholemeal bread dough then popped in my dried fruits, some cinnamon and some pistachios. I glazed the top with honey and salt dissolved in hot water – that's the sucker punch it makes a yummy crispy crust.

Unsatisfied with my days creativity I decided to go and spend some time with Rocinante, (yep, I'm pretentious enough to name my bicycles after Horses in Cervantes' novels). I have a little bit of a thing for pimping my ride and a brief trip to the shop, a few flashes of my scars and renditions of my sob story yielded the desired response, a pair of Red Hudz and a gold KMC chain. The gold chain can wait until my peak races (I like the black and gold look, very MR T) but the hudz had to go on straight away, I gave the "candycane" bar tape a quick scrub to complete the look. Then reclined with a beer to appreciate how fu&*ing awesome I am.


At this point my stomach intervened amd reminded that however cool I might think I am my intestines still look like a sieve and I should go and have a lie down. I watched the tour for a bit as well, Ventoux looked mental, I was really hoping 'Bert would throw his water bottles at lance and wiggo could chip off the front and nobody would notice. Sadly that didn't happen but wiggo did a solid ride nonetheless. I have also decided I need a cycling twin so we can be like the schleks, they have to be willing to learn to speak and spell in proper English though and to wear an orange hat like me. Oh and to let me be the cool twin, they could be the quiet and slightly nerdy one, I'll be the cool and somewhat mysterious one.


Later one of the neighbours came around, we talked beer and hog roasts (seriously try not to laugh when you are with your mum and one of her mates and they are discussing where you can get a good spit roast) and then we had tea. It's been a while since I have had a proper tea so we had the teapot out and milk jugs – the whole shebang, we don't mess about. I'm pretty sure P diddy doesn't party like we do down in murcot. In all seriousness it was nice to have tea but the middle aged lady babble was boring so I went inside to pretend that I am actually writing a pard of PhD thesis and not just spending four years as an underpaid proseffional sunbather/coffee drinker. Dad's back now he was playing cricket for our village against another village, I'm pretty sure they got annihilated, that seems to be the pattern.

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