Suppose you walked to the DIY Superstore...

...in the snow...

...and they had no paint? At all?

Paint, of course, was what I went for. There will be an Exciting New Range, they tell me. Tomorrow, they say. It's all in the warehouse. Today? No. No paint today.

Still'n'all, it's only a couple of miles. Each way. In the snow. It keeps me slim. And sooner that than drive all the way to Boroughbridge as m'friends shewhomust and durham_rambler have just done, for a crime writers' lunch, only to find it cancelled.

Has Mercury gone retrograde or some such, without my noticing?

I shall fry cod's roes and mushrooms for lunch. In butter. And spread clotted cream on my toast. (Hush, it's an experiment. I'll let you know.)

And the bread has risen bountifully while I was gone. (Note to self, though: when trying out a new technique, next time? If the book comes with a DVD to demonstrate same? Might be a good idea to watch the DVD. Beforehand.)

No use crying over spilled rice - *sobs*

In which we discover that the little shit (and yes, we all know whom I mean) has gnawed his way through the base of my rice-sack, in order to gorge himself on, um, dried raw rice. Soddit.

I may have yelled at him. With gestures. I am a bad person. But it's really getting to me, the way I have to lock every foodstuff away regardless of whether or not it is or ought to be cat-attractive. I don't naturally run that kind of kitchen; I like open shelves and larders spilling over. I loved having my rice in sacks. There is no romance in sealed tupperware.

A murrain upon him. I have shut him away with Barry, behind the dining-room door; I am going to play Joni Mitchell and paint the hallway and forget that I have cats. In, um, five days' time, they can start to forget about me...

I can haz Great Leap Forward?

This afternoon, baking bread by New Technique (stretching rather than kneading, since you ask: is odd but effective, and amazingly much easier on bad hands & shoulders), I thought maybe it might be fun to work my way right through this book in an orderly fashion, baking every loaf, bun and roll offered. In order.

Mulling just now over what to do about dinner, I realised just how much of a rut I have slid into, cooking-wise; which is no surprise, my being a creature-of-habit and all, but suddenly I want to revolt. I want not to cook anything I know how to cook. I want new recipes, new ingredients, new techniques.

To some extent, I guess I'm whistling in the wind here; there aren't that many ingredients I haven't cooked. Lots of new techniques, though. New combinations, different flavourings.

Time to leave the tired old tricks behind me for a while. *nods*

We'll see what California has to offer, perhaps, in the way of New...