Feb. 12th, 2016

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So yesterday the usual gang descended locust-like on the Debauched Sloth, and I fed them onion soup and then this -

20160211_200426

- which is a Tuscan salad featuring a whole hot roast chicken torn apart* with my bare hands, cubed bread toasted beneath the chicken, and leaves of many varieties: dressed largely with the chicken's juices, and accessorised with toasted pine nuts and raisins plumped in champagne vinegar.

Cathyn brought a mincemeat pie for pudding, with actual meat in the mincemeat. Nom.

And this morning I was all gung-ho about all sorts of things, and I finished Chapter Eleven of the Crater School project, and all was well -

- except, apparently, me. This afternoon I have a koff and a sore chest, and I feel dizzy and a little strange. I am ... quite tired of this. Either I am subject to a constant succession of not-quite-negligible ailments, or this is just the Bug That Wouldn't Leave. Either way, I've had enough of not feeling quite the thing. Hell, I've even had enough of the sofa.

Having said which, I think I'm taking the rest of today off. I was going to do all manner of stuff in the kitchen, in the garden, at my desk. Right now none of them seem likely, so pffft.


*mightily

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