10.11.05..9:22 am

PIRATES ON THE HIGH SHORES OF SLEEP

"Arhh."

"Arhh."

<"Mmm.. Arhh, arhh."

"How long have we been making pirate noises at each other in bed?"

"I don't know, but they're the pirate noises of loooove."

YOU KNOW WHICH WOULD I'D PREFER

My friend Jon will be leaving London for Toronto in six days and I can't make it out to his leaving do, which stinks. He's been a steady link to back home that filter through far too rarely; we've known each other since grade seven, though only began to acknowledge each other's existence after leaving for university. He's one of those dangerous consultant people - I love him dearly, but I refuse to speak to him about his work. We'll leave it at he's an 'upgrading efficency' expert and not say anything more about it. The reason for not being able to wish him bon voyage and safe tidings is that Matthew's friends invited us out week's ago for an engagement party or birthday party or something. I'm not entirely sure what, but it means I'll be spending the night with a bunch of Kentish rednecks that were once a part of Matthew's youth. (They're not all that bad actually, just a couple of them who the others quite diligently keep away from political discussions and ignore when such discussions happen to come up.) We hang out with them very rarely so I sometimes find it a bit hard to come up with inspiring conversation. It doesn't help that I'm one of them edumacated types who think an evening talking books and Foucault is a hi-larious way of spending a night rather than debating the merits of some old teacher I've not had the pleasure of being taught by or making fun of the waiter behind his back because his Punjabi-influenced English means you have to actually listen when he speaks to you. I think they all regard me as something a little odd, but as I make Matthew happy they'll just join the Smile and Nod brigade. A couple of them (Matthew's best friend and another close old friend who goes by Randell or Sandal and there's a fuuuuunny story behind why he does, but I'll be fucked if I can remember it) are really sweet and fun to hang around with. Conversations with the other women are difficult at best. This is because, if memory serves correctly, they speak of nothing else but the babies they are going to have, the weddings they are going to have and the houses they are going to own. Unless they're making fun of waiters. It wouldn't be so bad if the boys didn't look vaguely disconcerted whenever I attempted to initiate conversation with them. Intersexual interaction with those you've not known since secondary school is apparently a no go.

Anyway. Whatevs. Saturday will be great, I swear.

LIVE AND LET REALISE THE AWESOMENESS OF FLEMING

On the other hand, I'm thrilled to announce that I've another convert to add to the list of former Fleming-sceptics. Jon, the Canadian who's so traitorously going back to Canada, finished Casino Royale and found himself compelled to rush out and purchase Live and Let Die and Moonraker. And to that I say, Hurrah! and Keep going my friend! They really do just keep getting better, though of the first seven Goldfinger and Dr No are the ones to look out for. And Moonraker. Of the last 7, The Spy Who Loved Me is interestingly written, but very much atypical of the Jame Bond, 007 series; On Her Majesty's Secret Service and You Only Live Twice are my favourites and must be read back to back.

In any case, stop sitting there and Fleming, damn you! Fleming!

THE TITLELESS ONE

Amazingly, I've somehow managed to complete chapter one of my novel, nearly finish chapter two (need a little research for the closer) and moved swiftly on to chapter three with four and five in planning. It's going alright, it'll need masses of editing done before I let anyone look at it, but I like what I've done so far. Who knows what it'll do for anyone else, but it makes me laugh. And I've got chapter one finished! It mayn't seem like the biggest achievement, but it's huge!

The only thing I need now is a title. We're talking zombies, scientific and cultural studies, King's College, uber wonder chick as narrator.. Any suggestions?

STEW AND OTHER GAMBITS

My partner in culinary wizardry and I have finally sorted a name out for the website: Spilt Beans. I still kind of have a soft spot for Hijacked Avocado, but the survey results were pretty resoundingly in Spilt Beans' favour.

She came over last night for stew and cuisine talk. I read her some of my recipes, which she likes a lot. Our styles of writing are fairly similar and we both insist on storytelling as we recipe, which means that we don't have stylistic clashes that could be the poitential death before we begin. So all excellent.

The stew, should you be wondering was an amalgamation of soup I'd made the morning before (because there's no time like when you've just got out of bed to make soup). I'd made way too much of it and our freezer is only so large, so I had one and a half old Yeo Valley yoghurt pots of the stuff sitting in the fridge. I only used the half pot though as I think today's the day for getting soupy at lunch.

In any case, I sauteed some leek and onion, and parboiled carrot and potato to add to the soup. The truly INGENIOUS part was that I made extra stock by simply half-covering the leek and onion with water and dumped a load of spinach over it to steam while the pan simmerred. When I added it to the soup I buzzed the hand blender through it and voila! The perfect base for a stew!

Some haricot beans and carrot/potato/carrot-and-potato water later and I had myself some stew!

I made chive and parsley dumplings too when I came home from work, except used too much suet and put them in far too early, then had to take them out and wait until the stew was ready, so they didn't fluff up like they should have done. I'd forgotten how much I love dumplings. Mmmmmm..dumplings... If I didn't have this novel to get cracking on, I'd make some now..

****emmms