Delicious! Mrs. Henderson Presents

I found myself at home, on a Friday night, the house to myself. Determined not to feel too sorry for myself as is my wont from time to time, I thought it a prime opportunity to watch TV, a rare occurence of late. Both the TV watching and the home on a Friday night.

I settled in, and prepared to be dazzled by my choices: BBC 1 & 2, ITV 1, Channels 4 &5. Wow. Delighted I was when I saw that not only was I just in time for the start of a moo-vie, but that it was one which I was pleased to be watching.

My favourite piece of dialogue in this moo-vie and possibly one of my favourite ever, is in reference to boobs. I have those and so it's always nice to see some and hear what other people think/say about them. Those with boobs will understand. I hope I'm not alone here.

It goes something like this:

Mrs. Henderson to the Old Guy What Makes The Rules: "You're thinking bosoms, but I'm thinking breasts!"

Old Guy What Makes The Rules: "And what, my dear, is the difference?"

Mrs. Henderson: "Ah, the difference is in your soul."

Mrs. Henderson rocks.

Many Ways To Cook A Duck

If you were expecting this posting to be a profound philosophical proverb, look away now for you will be disappointed. Vous serez déçu for you fluent French speakers out there. Because after four days in France with my newly appointed French family, I am of course now fluent in The French. Ha!

Phrased as a question: How many ways are there to cook a duck? Really, how many? In four days, I ate duck in many many more than four different forms. I shall attempt a list:

1. Foie gras. You may gasp in horror, but it's true, I sampled the liver of the duck. The fat liver at that.

2. Duck pâté. "Is this not the commoner's version of foie gras?" I ask tres innocently. "Non!" my French family vigorously defended, en masse, the subtle difference. I never quite got to the bottom of what the difference is as I was too busy ducking (ha ha) the Viva le Frances being fired back and forth across the table.

3. Confit de Canard. That be Confit of Duck. Essentially McDuck is marinated in its own fat. For days. And then cooked. In its own fat. Delicious. Served with my new favourite: little bits of fried potatoes, name unknown. Not pomme frites, smart arse. I did ask. I forgot.

3. Margrets de Canard. I think. It's fried (of course) duck breast served with pepper sauce and the little fried potatoes of goodness. Very very good.

4. Gésier salad. Gizzards. Yes siree. Fried. I think I'm repeating myself. Yum.

5. Duck Proscuitto. I made that name up, but it was like proscuitto. Of duck.

Only five. It seemed like lots o' ducks. A raft of ducks. A team even.

Related posts: Fortnums, Stansted, Langoustine

Not your average Friday night

So there I was sitting in the pub with my friends, drinking a Peroni and talking about Stuff, and the next thing I knew I was looking at a penis. With a metal bar through the tip. In the pub. A penis. It's not really par for the course on any given night out, hence this specific mention. You will be clamouring for the whowhatwhenwherewhy detail, and I shall oblige.

Dellboy: "Everyone, my friend (let's call him) Al is joining us. He has a penis piercing."
The rest of us: "Really? How interesting and well, quite gross, but thanks for introducing us to his name and his penis in the same breath."

Later that evening.

Dellboy: "Everyone this is Al. Al, this is everyone."
The rest of us: "Hi Al, we know about...you know, your penis. Do tell."

And he did.

The rest of us: "Can we have a lookie?" Not thinking for one second he would. Again, he did.

So many levels. Wrong.

Dear Goddess Who Sends Men for Women,
When picking out the man for me, please ensure that the Unpierced Penis box is ticked, bolded and underlined.
Thank you in advance. A lot.
P.S. Please, no penis piercings. I hope you understand.


Here's the bit for my fellow Fact Geeks:

Palang involves piercing the glans of the penis horizontally and
the insertion of a barbell. This item of jewellery is called an ampalang. It originated in the tribes who inhabit the island of Borneo. The term palang translates as "crossbar" and can be related to the timber roof supports of the longhouses of the tribes of the area, and symbolises the protective power of the male over the family.

(I assure you this is not the explanation Al provided as to the Why Would You?)

And for your visual pleasure, in case you were having trouble imagining it.

Tractors Schmactors

I still haven't started reading the Book.

Tomorrow I fly. To the France. A Worrie took up Residence for some days in my Thoughts of the Fog. This Worrie has now lifted with the Fog. And so I say again, I shall spend Christmas in France, so there! French wine, French cheese, French bread, French Christmas presents, French family, French air, French dogs, French walks...I could go on. Housemates have requested that I bring back French People. Good-Looking Ones. They were quite specific about that bit.

The Science of Book Reading

I am, or certainly have been, an avid reader. One or two books per week was my staple. Pretty much anything goes as long as it holds my interest for a bit, and from there on in it's a sure thing that I will probably be able see it through to the end. There are a few books I have started but have been unable to pursue. I can't think of any right now, but there are a few. I have spent many years and many books pressing on to the end despite extreme boredom or confusion or a combination of both.

I should come up with a formula to a) ensure I never choose one that's a non-starter, or b) enable me to put it down with less umming and aahing about whether or not to give it a chance.

This formula would have to consider:

1. Choosing a book by its cover. Is this wrong? A good cover covers a multitude of literary sins. And looks good on the shelf. Especially if it matches your colour scheme.
2. Level of excitement and/or interest within the first say 10 pages. A good first paragraph is hard to find, but when it's there it can buy another 20 pages at least.
3. Did someone recommend it? You would have to be able to report back to them, not only knowledgeably but also truthfully. Truth is important I think. Particularly if they're your friend. Yes indeed. Perhaps this could be manipulated a bit if they are say just a colleague.
4. If it's required reading for a course of some variety can you get away with watching the movie adaptation? This worked very well for some of my classmates, especially as Mel Gibson made for very worthwhile Hamlet eye candy (though much less so since the "sugar tits" episode).
5. How easy it is to skip to the sex bits, if any.
6. Everyone's talking about it.

Having thought of those off the top of my head, I now have no idea how to create a meaningful formula. So I'll move on to my next point. Or go back to it. For various reasons, I have not read a book for some months now. Either partly or wholly. The time has arrived. I am ready. I am willing. I bought one from ASDA for £3 and I am determined to keep still long enough to read it through, with or without scientificated formula. It's called A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka. Here's to getting lost.

Full dancecard

I have truly embraced the party season. Lots of Eating, lots of Drinking and much Being Merry. The inevitable office Christmas Party has been had. No horror stories to admit to. At least none involving me personally. To this Christmas Party I wore a Dress. Yes, you heard me, a Dress. But wait, that's not all. I wore Shoes. You know, ones For Girls. With the Heel Bits. Is a transformation in progress? Because, picture if you will, the Dress and the Shoes with Heels, and then close your eyes tightly and to this picture add some Make Up. For the Face. To make the Face look all Nice and Smooth. Flawless some might say. Aye. Watch out world.

Smoke and mirror lockdown*

I have oft been told that I am a straight talker who calls it as she sees it, and I pride myself in that. I am mildy annoyed when people favour the beating around the bush approach; spit it out! As a consequence of being frank by nature, I often give myself a hard time for not speaking my mind more freely in this space (see Yellow-bellied decoy). I reread my postings from time to time and each one of them is truthful and factually correct, but there are several that only vaguely hint at what lies beneath. They're more footnotes for me to remember what I probably will never forget. In spite of not baring my soul and dark thoughts, what I say, I mean, even if it lacks detail and emotional gravitas. And so I accept that I will carry on doing what I do, because this is what it is.

*REM: Bad Day

This time last year...

...I was dreaming of change. So nothing's changed in that respect, yet everything has changed since then. Happy Birthday to me.

Clouds really do have silver linings

Today started abominably. Many many much too many late nights and far too much drinking-imbibing-consuming of the Alcoholic Liquids is truly starting to take its toll. The mirror reflects a wrung out rag. Tired and grumpy, accompanied by a raspy voice and thick head, I managed to make my way to the kitchen for some tea. I thought I should eat something too and decided at this point to be sensible and have some Scott's Porage Oats. With raisins. Good Wholesome Food for Soaked Livers. I sat at the table watching the squirrels; chewing carefully and swallowing slowly and planning my trip back Up the Stairs to the Good Place Beneath the Duvet. Enter Scottish Housemate. I have no recollection of how I ended up participating in the planning of a Roast Dinner and a Trip To The Shops. Well and truly roped in, I was forced to abandon warm and cozy bed thoughts in favour of a hot shower and the task of Getting Dressed.

Let me skip to the best bit. Alannah, this Primark. Primark, this is Alannah. Never have I been so thrilled to bits with a bargain. A few coins for like a zillion pairs of knickers, Ally McBeal clouds-all-over pyjamas, and Other Pyjamas and Stuff. Throw in a handbag and glittery belt and call me Pleased as Punch. The roast was rather good too. And, inadditiontoaswellas&also, I have the day off tomorrow so I can Recover Properly.