Things aren’t going entirely to plan. An irritating niggle is threatening my grand erection with flaccidity, but it’ll be sorted out – eventually. Mrs Crox locked herself out of her office, which occasioned some drama. And when I opened the fridge, a plate carrying a piece of cake fell out, carrying with it an egg. Egg and plate smashed on floor, and Canis croxorum was unusually reluctant to slurp up the raw egg. Or the cake.
But it’s not all bad.
The homegrown broccoli is a fab addition to my stir-fries. And KristiV’s recipe for kale chips is proving very popular (we did it again, with just a sprinkle of salt and pepper, a great bar snack).
And the sun is shining brightly. This is a panorama from the lighthouse yesterday looking out to sea (you can see it’s a panorama from the wobbly horizon). The gorse is in bloom sending a pleasing scent of vanilla into the warming air. For those in search of literary landscapes, the bluff on the right is the location of the Institute in my Great Unread Novel By The Sea.
The weather is enough to cheer the grumpiest countenance.
A good win by Norwich against Swansea this afternoon would put the icing on the cake. But what with eggs and such falling out of the fridge, could this be a
bunny portent of DOOM?
Update: a visit to a reclamation yard in Norwich (I love reclamation yards) netted a Butler sink for £20 – for the new kitchen – and a set of gold-plated Victorian-style bathroom mixer taps (with shower) for £10. Here they are…
Another Update: the Canaries were thrashed 3-0 by the Swans. Bum poo willy bottom.