posted by
terryfrost at 07:26am on 19/05/2008
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Nothing much happening. I'm doing the podcast today (Monday) which I have off so I can take Sal in for some medical appointments in Geelong. She's okay, but there's stuff we need to get done.
I've spent the whole weekend obsessed with Jacques Demy's musicals, particularly The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and The Young Girls of Rochefort. I'm podding about them and having (ahem) acquired the soundtrack to Rochefort, I'm immersing myself in 1960s, French jazz musicals to a scary degree. It's harmless and will pass, but it's rare that movies give me such an emotional engagement. That's what I love about cinema.
I cooked lamb shanks yesterday and they were the best lot yet. Reducing the beef stock with some red wine, garlic and spring onions seems to help. I might throw in some rosemary next time.
The outlaws came over yesterday to deliver me a pair of slippers. Getting slippers for feet like mine is like trying to find a jockstrap for a rhino. But they did find a pair, made in New Zealand which means that cold tiles in winter no longer perform cryogenic experiments on my plates of meat. Sal and her Mum seem to be under the impression that by some magical method, bacilli and virii are absorbed through feet, but only when they're cold. No amount of rational explanation will convince them otherwise. Their theory has the memetic stickiness of a religious belief.
Time for another espresso shot.
I've spent the whole weekend obsessed with Jacques Demy's musicals, particularly The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and The Young Girls of Rochefort. I'm podding about them and having (ahem) acquired the soundtrack to Rochefort, I'm immersing myself in 1960s, French jazz musicals to a scary degree. It's harmless and will pass, but it's rare that movies give me such an emotional engagement. That's what I love about cinema.
I cooked lamb shanks yesterday and they were the best lot yet. Reducing the beef stock with some red wine, garlic and spring onions seems to help. I might throw in some rosemary next time.
The outlaws came over yesterday to deliver me a pair of slippers. Getting slippers for feet like mine is like trying to find a jockstrap for a rhino. But they did find a pair, made in New Zealand which means that cold tiles in winter no longer perform cryogenic experiments on my plates of meat. Sal and her Mum seem to be under the impression that by some magical method, bacilli and virii are absorbed through feet, but only when they're cold. No amount of rational explanation will convince them otherwise. Their theory has the memetic stickiness of a religious belief.
Time for another espresso shot.
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