My pretty poor attempt at latte art....
I like it, I believe that's Cthulhu rising from the lost city of R'lyeh?
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I like it, I believe that's Cthulhu rising from the lost city of R'lyeh?
Me ,too. Like tying a Windsor knot around the bolts in my neck.
I sympathise. This must present a bit of a challenge.
But there is a part of me (that unreconstructed part that occasionally pays a fleeting visit to a twenties world that never actually existed, - except in my mind, of some enlightened fiction) - that positively drools at the thought of a perfectly executed Windsor knot, or, at a pinch, the half Windsor.
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OK, to be honest, I have been wearing Windsor knots for the past 50 years or so.
I can tie a perfect Windsor, with the proper dimple, mind you.
With my collection of antique ties (which are too short for a Windsor) I tie a four-in-hand, or what you call a half Windsor.
I used to be quite the toff!
Somehow, that doesn't surprise me in the slightest.
But, yes, I will admit to a slight smile (of approval).
I have always had something of a soft spot for a dapper gentleman.
The sun - bright in a blue sky, unusual but welcome in late autumn - is shining, my newspaper (The Observer, the Sunday sibling of The Guardian) lies on the sofa, and a mug of Yirgacheffe coffee, from the highlands of Ethiopia, sits on a coaster close to my hand.
My second welcome mug of coffee from the Yirgacheffe highlands of Ethiopia is being sipped as I write.
It's the same up here in the north of England. I've been out for a nice long walk. I walked past Starbucks and Costa Coffee as I am now making a superior drink at home with my machine and fresh beans. I bought my newspaper (The Sunday Times for me) and am now back home. Had a hot bath, cooked sausages on oat meal rolls for myself and my dad (the man's a machine! He's 74, still works 60 hours a week in his haulage business, then works in my garden all weekend. He's twice as fit as I am and I'm 22 years younger!)
Anyway, now a nice latte, my newspaper and later the football. Having a perfect weekend and I hope all you are as well.
Taking a couple strong cups of...tea...as I prepare to roast up some coffee for the week.
Ha! My perfect weekend just took a turn for the worse. My candle oil burner just exploded! Turned my back for a minute and this happened. Looks like the scene of a murder! And my team (Manchester United) are losing 2-0. Oh well, never mind....
A black blend, quite tasty.
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Yikes!Ha! My perfect weekend just took a turn for the worse. My candle oil burner just exploded! Turned my back for a minute and this happened. Looks like the scene of a murder! And my team (Manchester United) are losing 2-0. Oh well, never mind....
Sorry about your candle oil burner, (how did that happen? - I use them too, but you need to make certain that you always have sufficient water in the container).
And, as for football related matters, as long as that nihilistically negative and narcissistic Portuguese gentleman is in charge of Manchester United, I devoutly hope that each and every opponent stuffs them silly.
And, as for football related matters, as long as that nihilistically negative and narcissistic Portuguese gentleman is in charge of Manchester United, I devoutly hope that each and every opponent stuffs them silly.
I prefer Professor Plum in the Library with a Big Fat Book, myself. Or the Reverend Green in the Conservatory with the Candle....
I had the Sceptical Scribe in the conservatory with the coffee grinder...
Oh, gosh, yes.
Oooooops. Silly me. Completely forgot that my OE Lido 2 - which looks like an outsize chess piece to start with - can easily do duty as a (seriously heavy and over-engineered) weapon......
But what is it about conservatories?
I imagine the murderer was trying to enjoy the flowers, woefully under-caffeinated, struggling to grind out her first cup of the morning, when she was pestered by the poor victim. One should only bother the Scribe with one's trivialities after the first cup...
How right you are.
(My italics, subsequently added).
And that exact message - more or less articulated in those precise - or similar - words - has been transmitted - over various breakfast tables - between gritted teeth - to a wide variety of international colleagues on a number of trying and testing missions over the years. (Decades, indeed).
Most - if they wished to preserve life and limb - heeded it. Closely. A few heeded it so closely that they learned to ensure that I had imbibed my first - and preferably second - cup of coffee before presenting me with news, (good or bad), or, what you have so rightly described and dismissed as 'trivialities'.
Ha! My perfect weekend just took a turn for the worse. My candle oil burner just exploded! Turned my back for a minute and this happened. Looks like the scene of a murder! And my team (Manchester United) are losing 2-0. Oh well, never mind....
You need to call Sherlock to investigate crime scene...lol!
An urban farmers breakfast (sans the blood splatter) this overcast but clearing spring morning.
Freshly laid eggs (a special thank you to both Floofy and Miss Prissy for their early morning contribution) poached in spring water with a dash of white wine vinegar.
Hash browns hewn from new seasons Agria potatoes (scrubbed not peeled) gently browned in a light olive oil.
Pan fried double smoked streaky bacon procured from a gentleman who goes by the moniker of "Smokey Joe".
Fresh picked garden greens wilted in the glorious render within the bacon pan.
Stacked with a generous nappe of buttery hollandaise sauce scented with fresh chopped French tarragon and chervil leaves.
Oh, and a flat white pulled from some much lauded Yirgacheffe beans slow roasted yesterday morning.
Freshly laid eggs (a special thank you to both Floofy and Miss Prissy for their early morning contribution) poached in spring water with a dash of white wine vinegar.
Hash browns hewn from new seasons Agria potatoes (scrubbed not peeled) gently browned in a light olive oil.
Pan fried double smoked streaky bacon procured from a gentleman who goes by the moniker of "Smokey Joe".
Fresh picked garden greens wilted in the glorious render within the bacon pan.
Stacked with a generous nappe of buttery hollandaise sauce scented with fresh chopped French tarragon and chervil leaves.
Oh, and a flat white pulled from some much lauded Yirgacheffe beans slow roasted yesterday morning.
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I prefer a full Windsor.
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Don't clean up. Will make a perfect backdrop for Halloween!Ha! My perfect weekend just took a turn for the worse. My candle oil burner just exploded! Turned my back for a minute and this happened. Looks like the scene of a murder! And my team (Manchester United) are losing 2-0. Oh well, never mind....
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I heard they offered her the 'I' word!