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tealinHaving been an antisocial curmudgeon all week, I have been invited to Sunday dinner by the housemate who's in the running for this household's Frank Debenham.* One cannot turn down such a gesture of open generosity. In acknowledgement of this, I am contributing my last few vegetables. There will be wine. I shall endeavour to remember that Sour Cherry is not invited to this dinner and is most definitely not allowed to speak. Given that, when the three of us are together, Non-Debenham Housemate mostly talks to Debenham Housemate and my attempts to contribute fall flat or worse, this shouldn't be too hard.
This is the High Holy Day of the polar history calendar – Scott's last diary entry – and I usually do something to mark it, but I thought this year, of all years, the Internet would be especially unappreciative of three men dying in a tent in the middle of nowhere, so I have let it go. Besides, I am just preparing to join the farewell gala in Dunedin via my comic pages next week, which will be hard enough to get into without jumping to the end today.
In other news, I have been slouching like a teenage hacker all day and my throat feels almost normal, so I'm blaming the posture until proven otherwise.
Yesterday I phoned(!) the local pub that is offering to fill grocery orders via their suppliers, to ask what the procedure was, so today I wrote an email with my 'wishlist' (including more vegetables) and we'll see what turns up. They include an invoice with the groceries when they drop them off, which one then pays by bank transfer: truly the lowest-contact means of monetary exchange. I very much want them to stay in business so I have requested far more than I currently need. I also fear they may decide to wrap up the operation if further restrictions come down, so better have too much than too little, and too soon rather than too late. I hope a kilo of onions is enough; more than that and I struggle to eat them up before they start going mildewy.
The pub landlord asked if I wanted bread, because the baker doesn't deliver on Sundays. 'No,' I said, 'I bake my own. You don't do flour, do you?' Landlord described flour as 'like gold dust', at least in the context of their providers, but Debenham Housemate says they still have plenty at Sainsbury's, so I may get one or two more bags to replace the ones I've taken out of storage. Carbs may be your enemy in peacetime, but when you're trying to stretch out the calories, they go a long way ...
*Thoughtful and proactive sweetheart, social glue of various circles, patient and understanding balm for those who don't deserve it
19:17 GMT – 47 minutes after the start of dinner
OK, well that was a significant failure.
This is the High Holy Day of the polar history calendar – Scott's last diary entry – and I usually do something to mark it, but I thought this year, of all years, the Internet would be especially unappreciative of three men dying in a tent in the middle of nowhere, so I have let it go. Besides, I am just preparing to join the farewell gala in Dunedin via my comic pages next week, which will be hard enough to get into without jumping to the end today.
In other news, I have been slouching like a teenage hacker all day and my throat feels almost normal, so I'm blaming the posture until proven otherwise.
Yesterday I phoned(!) the local pub that is offering to fill grocery orders via their suppliers, to ask what the procedure was, so today I wrote an email with my 'wishlist' (including more vegetables) and we'll see what turns up. They include an invoice with the groceries when they drop them off, which one then pays by bank transfer: truly the lowest-contact means of monetary exchange. I very much want them to stay in business so I have requested far more than I currently need. I also fear they may decide to wrap up the operation if further restrictions come down, so better have too much than too little, and too soon rather than too late. I hope a kilo of onions is enough; more than that and I struggle to eat them up before they start going mildewy.
The pub landlord asked if I wanted bread, because the baker doesn't deliver on Sundays. 'No,' I said, 'I bake my own. You don't do flour, do you?' Landlord described flour as 'like gold dust', at least in the context of their providers, but Debenham Housemate says they still have plenty at Sainsbury's, so I may get one or two more bags to replace the ones I've taken out of storage. Carbs may be your enemy in peacetime, but when you're trying to stretch out the calories, they go a long way ...
*Thoughtful and proactive sweetheart, social glue of various circles, patient and understanding balm for those who don't deserve it
19:17 GMT – 47 minutes after the start of dinner
OK, well that was a significant failure.
