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I just had to email my mum to ask how to make stew. We've got bags of potatoes and carrots and turnips and so on, and some Quorn pieces, but it just occurred to me that I didn't know what the liquid bit of stew was made of. I'd guessed it was just stock, and I was right, but I wanted to know if there was some special secret ingredient that I didn't know about. If this was Chicken Soup for the Soul rather than Stew for Dummies then I suppose the secret ingredient would be a mother's love, but in this case it was bay leaves. Just as well, because I'm allergic to glurge, though I'm delighted that there's a word for the literary equivalent of the MSG-laden slurry at the bottom of a Pot Noodle.
It's been a funny week for food. It makes me both delight and despair that I have the sort of lifestyle where the only things I can find in the cupboard at work to eat for lunch are avocados, chick peas and vine tomatoes; though earlier in the week I had stave off starvation by borrowing two crumpets and a potato-and-bacon-and-something cup-a-soup from my boss. "It has the consistency of wallpaper paste," she warned me. She was right. Today for lunch I have a tupperwareful of new potatoes and absolutely no inspiration.
At the weekend
Talking of going down: coming up soon, "Steak and a Blowjob Day". The idea is that it's "Like Valentine's day, but for men"; but like Valentine's Day, ho-ho, men obviously can't remember when it is. Aren't men daft, eh? Fortunately I'm more than happy to allocate two days to the celebration and enjoyment of two of my favourite things, and I'm not talking about beer or cucumbers.
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Anyway, I'm off into town in a minute to post shoes and buy vegetables. This crazy life, eh. This crazy life.