Full English Breakfast redux.

Since this place has been a den of thieves lately, I put a little cooler in the bedroom and stocked it with ingredients for Full English Breakfast. I have bangers, triangular hash brown patties, eggs, "rashers" of bacon, toast, marmite, tomato, baked beans, and fresh ground coffee. Today for dinner I made my first proper Full English Breakfast.

It took about seventeen pots and pans, since everything cooks at different times, but in the end it was heavy bliss on a plate. When I was done I couldn't have eaten another one, but since a few of the crooks were about I practiced the timing by cooking a few more up for them. Téodor, Lyle and Mr. Bear enjoyed hot plates of the good stuff and gave it rave reviews. I think Téodor was pretty high, because he called Roast Beef as soon as he started eating and told him to come over, so I made another plate for him. Usually Beef is pretty uncomfortable and by-the-book polite but he laid into that plate like there was no one else in the room. I don't think he even said Thank You. That's a big thing for Beef. It made me kind of happy.

My Takamine is shot.

When I was sixteen I spent about four hundred bucks on a Takamine Jasmine classical guitar, a pretty substantial investment at the time. It wiped out about two weeks' worth of Kmart pay stubs (I worked at that place). I took lessons with Ernie, the only black man in our entire county (brave soul) and picked up tablature wherever I could find it. Ernie taught me the basic arpeggio variations via Carcassi exercises and occasionally we'd riff on starter-level flamenco progressions. Half an hour ago I picked the the old axe up (it rests against a loveseat in the living room) and passed over a few of the old pieces. The high-E machine buzzes, there's a rib loose inside, and I can't remember any of the Sor stuff, let alone that Paganini thing I spent five months trying to figure out.

I guess it's true what they say, that you only get worse in life. Maybe I'll put on some overalls and hit my head on things until it's tomorrow.

Thank you everybody

It was nice to see that someone had stolen the bacon, hash browns, eggs, beans, bread, and tomato from the fridge this morning. All that was left of my ingredients was "blood pudding," which is this iron-flavored sausage made out of congealed pig's blood and starch. It tastes like if you pulled your cuticle back so far that it bled and you sucked on that. It was the only part of the meal I was planning on actually omitting; I had only bought it because I was feeling like I should go all the way with this "full English breakfast" thing. (I also bought some bogus canned drink called a "Shandy" which tasted like lemonade with an armpit in it.)

Anyhow, I fried the single black sausage up in a pan, and the room smelled like I was sautéing fresh scabs. I put it on a plate when it was done, but I ended up throwing both the plate and the sausage away, and went into town for some Quizno's while the house aired out.

Again, thank you everybody, for ruining what was going to be one of my increasingly rare nice homemade meals. Thank you; thanks.

Full English Breakfast

I went shopping this evening to find as many ingredients as I could for the "full English breakfast" we got at every bed & breakfast in which we stayed in the UK. I became really enamored of it, but I figured it was a kind of novelty act put on for tourists, since it's so extravagant. Fine with me. We were walking about fifteen miles a day in order to meet our goal of getting caught in the rain as much as possible—while buying $8USD Pret-a-Manger boxed sandwiches and $13USD pints of cream ales—a nice breakfast was one of my few solaces. Here's how the "full English breakfast" averages out between Edinburgh, London and points between:

• triangular hash brown patty

• "streaky" bacon, which is like a thin slice of ham

• a sausage or two

• a coddled egg (hard-boiled but yolk still runny)

• 18 pieces of toast, but more if you need it

• "Marmite," which is God's way of saying "Sorry for all the toast"

• sweet beans

• a heated tomato slice

Nice, on the whole, and good setup for a day of walking. I can't wait to cue it all up whenever it is that the MedEvac helicopters wake me up tomorrow (we live very near a hospital, which is handy if one eats many full English breakfasts).

I do not appreciate this.

There is a large pile of grated cheese on the counter. It is not even on a paper towel. It seems to have been sitting out for some time because it has discolored. It is about two dollars' worth of cheese.

EDIT: I weighed it. It is four dollars' worth of cheese.

County Fair

We did two unusual things today (Sunday):

1. We went to get yogurt. This isn't a big thing with us, but since it's summertime we've been popping around in the car and getting little "soft-servs" once in a while, usually with crumbled Reese's Cups or Butterfinger (in my case).

2. We went to the fair. We wouldn't normally have done this but while we were eating our yogurts we read the small local newspaper, and there was this story about a fancy high-dive event at the fair. One thing led to another and soon we were strolling into the fairgrounds, having paid $25 for the car and admission.

I got a foot-long with ketchup and mustard, and Liz got a lemonade from Hot Dog On A Stick. We played around at getting a funnel cake, but we both felt that on the balance it would be regrettable. In the end, we watched the high-dive and then some piglet racing. It was really cute to see the piglets race around the oval track in the deep sawdust. The whole event was well produced.

Unlike most fairs, I did not go home in a deep depression. Things were generally on the up and up and the nadirs of human ambition were not readily evident.

I am glad that we went to the fair today.

Weekend plans.

Here's what I'd like to get done this weekend:

• Hit the driving range
• Cook some seafood
• Go running
• Put a brick mowing ring around the front lawn
• Hang out at the Orchid Room and see if it's a nice Saturday night spot
• Hike up on the ridge

Here's what I'll get done this weekend:

• There's a Monk marathon.

Earth Zombie

Someone must have let Philippe eat sugar last night because he woke me up with that JAYMAR piano about five hundred times. The first time was around 3am, he was playing chopsticks and doing that thing where at the end he jumps up and knocks the stool over. I figured he'd just do it once but around the fifth time I threw off the duvet and went and told him to cut it out. Ten minutes later I was awakened by him playing it more softly, and the noise of the stool falling had been dampened somewhat. I went in to see that he'd put a dishtowel over the keys and a couch cushion behind the stool. A bit impatiently I told him I was going to hit the thing with a sledgehammer if he didn't stop playing.

Maybe an hour later I shot up with a start when he started banging on it full strength. I went in prepared to tie him to the dinner table, only to find that it was Lyle back from a night on the town. So for now I'm groggy, the JAYMAR is put away in the garage rafters, and Philippe is looking all around the house for his piano. I'll tell him where it is in a day or two.

Thanks, people.

The phone book company threw a phone book into my driveway today and it scratched the paint on the hood of my car. I am mad about this.