Butter oh my

As much as I've got children shouting gay at me on the street (once, and I quietly abused them right back) I'm really enjoying my boyish new haircut. I think it's very sexy..

Before it went wrong

This butterfly obviously thought so too as it found me stroking it so exciting that it emitted liquid* all over me.
Mmm, I've always wanted a butterfly golden shower.

It was a bit much though. I felt like I was in some Keith Haring graffiti, daubing ourselves over the Natural History Museum's hot house.

Wrong

Being already, quite busy enough thank you, in a relationship, I screamed and stumbled backwards. It did not quite get the message and attached its claspers to my leg. Douche!

Stalker

I managed to shake it off and went to have a look at the eggs.

Butterfly eggs

Hmm, I think they're a bit too small for me, I'll leave the butterflies too it.






I prefer keeping my fertile strength up with something a bit bigger.

Recently, i've been trying poached, scrambled, even fried. Anything to keep me as on it as Gaston!











*Not sure which one. 

A chilli feeling!

 In this week's paper Hugh suggested that we have our avocado sliced in a salad with strawberries, but this was vetoed.
We wanted to use the avocadoes instead in Angela Hartnett's crab cakes recipe. I make it my business always to cook the recipes of those who I wouldn't mind looking like. Angela will do. Hugh will not. The less said about James Martin the better!

We started making the crab cakes and it seemed quite easy and neat. Mix the crab meat with chopped spring onion and chopped ginger and chilli. Shape into balls (I hate the word patty as much as James Martin's hips), and coat first in flour, then beaten egg, then breadcrumbs.

Unfortunately I think Hugh had probably cursed me as about halfway through I got most of the 1 tsp of finely chopped chilli on my hands. Then on my eyes. Then in every (large) pore on my face. Then in every cut on my finger (and I'd been gardening that day). Hugh is such a witch!

To appease him I approximated his recipe for my pudding. 

Seven Ways

Taking inspiration from Lexie I knew that Granny and I needed to wring the last use from our recent chicken carcass from our roast dinner. 

Saw a little chick on Monday.

Put it in a roast on Tuesday.

We were making stock by Wednesday,

and still using the bits for soup and with rice on Thursday, and Friday, and probably Saturday- maybe Granny uses the leftover grease for something but I didn't see as I was out. 

We crunched it ALL up just like Lexie did those ducklings.

That way there's no blood left to get stuck on our face like Lexie gets.

Petis pois in a pod

 Considering that one of the last times I spent some time with Bob exchanges like this happened:

When was complaining about how cold I was on the train and Bob said, "You'll be cold when I murder you. Foxeehhhh knoxehh."

And when I asked "What deck of the boat are we on?" She said, "I'll deck you."

Considering all that I could have been a bit wary of meeting up. But it was going to be in a public place (The Royal Academy and then Pret) so I figured it was fine. 

This time I think she probably liked me TOO much as she'd unconsciously dressed exactly like me. But better. Her orange was more Christina Hendricks than prison.

We actually like double dressing as two are much better than one.  We ate exactly the same too but as there are only three options on the Prixe Fixe menu at Monmartre that was probably the best of a bad bunch taste than twin thinking. Moules, then some chicken in a sauce, if you wanted to copy us too. 

What was really good was that we multipled into all of our friends. Eight is a magic number

Animal Instincts

 One of the things we've been horrified at recently is Lexie's duckling consumption. Mum was quite traumatised after seeing a six duckling selection pack bobbing along the grass and Lexie going chomp chomp chomp and felling three at a time. Just like a conveyor belt at Yo Sushi. So easy. Ducklings were surely made for snacks.
The next day she had to hold his foaming mouth back whilst she watched a duckling alone, painfully trip over a root and just wriggle there trapped whilst Mummy and Daddy frantically quacked from the pond. She couldn't free the little leg from its tangled state for fear of letting Lexie at him.
Lose lose for that duckling.

Few days later Ro described hearing the cracking of tiny little bones in Lexie's jaws as he gobbled up the last. Crrrack. Maybe the duck family had seen his face coming and thought it was too cute to be carnivorous.

Unlike me. I was watching Ro's face in the car and so had full assessment of my enemy when it came for the prawns to be delivered in the restaurant. I know in the flash of an appetite pang how it could turn from this into this! 

Sharing with Ro, I made sure to eat at thrice the pace of her so eventually my pile was just as crracking as Lexie's 

Bananas

Bob leaving me

 After making sure Bob had really left... I thoroughly enjoyed having the house to myself for about ten minutes on Friday.

Old person I found on the street

Then I got lonely and started having to recreate Granny and Grampa's presence. Searching for some old people to fill their chairs.

In desperation I thought, What Would Granny Do? Well, it not being time to fall asleep in my chair with a fish paste sandwich I thought I'd get her pinny on and use up the overripe bananas in a cake. Don't worry, this isn't Bob's sick bowl.

Being an unfortunate diabetic in my new role I used minimal brown not white sugar and swapped the butter for Greek yoghurt.
This took twice as long to rise so I never even had time to eat it.
Just right for diabetics. I should be an NHS advisor.

Feverfew

 Now I'm not saying it was anything to do with what she'd eaten the night before but the day after dinner at Chaz's, Bob was very sick throughout. I was doing some unemployed shoe shopping in Westfield when I got the call. "I'm very sick. Can I come asap? I'm assuming you'll be a better nurse than Haddrell." I dropped my credit cards with a clatter onto the till, only stopping to drop the shoes into a bag, and rushed home.

Of course it then took her three hours to commute to me during which I had time to power through my own sudden onset mystery illness (i'm just So empathetic) to whip her up some dubious looking soup and pudding, and get a stack of cold compresses on ice.

She eventually tumbled through the door in a pile of sick, protesting about anything but a mouthful of soup. Totally understand. More for me!

It was quite disconcerting her rushing off to be violently sick every 20 minutes but we could carry on our chatting through the toilet door, and she was so perky afterwards. "OOh that was so nice and minty when it came back up."

Remembering that Bob liked herbal remedies I thoughtfully incorporated some flower petals into dessert. She'd suffered from migraines terribly as a child until some incompetent friendly local GP had nodded and winked some herbs through to Mono. They were called Feverfew. Handy!

Mono would give her tablets but her Grandma just dug up the plants and put them on her morning toast! Eurgh bitter.

Scouring the garden I thought Bob would probably more enjoy Forget Me Nots on her fruit salad and yoghurt.

And well, she certainly won't forget this evening in a hurry!

Chazzy made us this delicious curry.