Pay attention, please

Sunday September 23, 2007

After my drifting, lethargic day yesterday, and the day before, I was not hopeful for today. Just goes to show, doesn’t it, because when I opened my eyes this morning there I was, wide awake, raring to go. I didn’t leap out of bed; there’s far too much of me to do anything in the way of leaping these days, but I stretched, carefully, and got up without undue delay.

I tell ya, I reckon there’s a conclave of small gods who’ve nothing better to do than play jokes on us mortals, stirring us up and squashing us down by turns. When some other person does things to me, good or ill, I can always question his motive and, oftentimes, work it out. Anyone who claims to understand the motives of the gods is rather missing the point, or so it seems to me.

“Dolly!” I yelled. “Come on, garden, breakfast and cuddle, then you’d better hide yourself for a few hours. I can feel a big house-cleaning session coming on.”

It’s all too easy to assign the mystery to those small gods of mine. I suspect it’s more to do with a change of diet though. This week has seen me switching from chilled ready-meals back to cooking things up from raw. My system much prefers proper food even if it is cooked bachelor-style.

This has happened before, of course. Many, many times. You’d think that, by now, I’d have learned the lesson. Hah! If you really think that’s a likely outcome for me then you’ve not been paying attention.

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Bachelor-style cooking?  It’s a collection of working methods designed to produce tasty grub fast and easy, with the minimum of fuss and time in preparation, and with the least possible washing up afterwards. Like cooking chicken breasts and veggies all together in tight-wrapped foil parcels for example. Same thing with other cuts of poultry and white meats, and fish. Don’t try it with red meat unless you’re determined to poison yourself.

Graham’s caravan