I thought I'd take a moment on the computer while my jar of roasted peppers sits upside down in a bowl of boiling water. I suppose not being able to open it is just desserts for buying such a poncy ingredient. It is, however, an integral part of my monkfish and prawn summer stew.
I've been far too busy at work to think of much else really and blogging opportunities have passed me by. Regulars have missed the story of me chasing the Evil Child round the estate in bare feet, pyjama bottoms and a vest; the wannabe airline pilot on the tube who wished everyone getting off at Canary Wharf a good day "except the idiot who blocked the doors at Canning Town. I don't care what kind of day you have". And the pre-teen sisters who, while their mother blissfully slept, carried out a modern-day inquisition on a drunk scaffolder. They were delighted to inform me when I got on the train that he uses women's under arm thingy because the boy's doesn't work and makes him smell like a buffalo's fart...
I can now, intermittently, make comments on other blogs but cannot add photos to postings as I discovered to my frustration last night. They are in draft form until I crack these bloody problems. I am giving up on all things technical until at least Tuesday.
I have the faintly ridiculous task of reading all 556 pages of Dicken's Curiosity Shop by Monday evening. I bought it on the way home this evening and managed 28 pages of my 139 page daily quota before getting off at Upney.