The Nothing Too Pretentious Cookbook

Yes, apologies to the flood of people who have mailed in - 200°C is also 400°F and Gas Mark 6.

Thanks.

The Nothing Too Pretentious Cookbook

Two pots or fewer, or your money back!

I’m not the most adventurous of cooks, but there are a few comfort food dishes I really enjoy cooking. They are easy to produce, tasty to eat and straightforward to wash up.

Of course I’d like to share a few recipes with you! Today we have:

Unpretentious Lasagne

Feeds between two students and six hardcore dieters.

You will need:

One non-stick pan

One thumb deep rectangular oven proof dish

One wooden spoon

A chopping/cutting knife

Ingredients, all available from your local supermarket:

500g Mince

Lasagne Sheets (ready made)

Tomato Puree (tube)

White Sauce (Béchamel, usually – but sold as “White Sauce”)

Cheese, grated

Some chopped Basil (fresh - good, dried - ok)

Suggested: sliced peppers, sliced mushrooms or tinned sweetcorn

Method:

Oven on to 200C in preparation for later.

Hob to full whack.

Throw mince into non-stick pan and sprinkle in basil. Stir until cooked (i.e. not pink, brown is also ok). Add other suggested ingredients here, if you want. Once this has been mixed in, dump in tomato puree, as much as coats the mixture you have made. Reduce heat to about ¾. Gently add in more tomato puree until it looks like a very thick sauce, covering most of your mixture.

Get your dish. Spoon in mixture to cover the base of the dish. Smooth until relatively flat. Cover this layer with another layer, of the lasagne sheets. Completely cover the mixture. Repeat this process until you have run out of mixture. Top your last layer with more sheets. Pour over the top your white sauce. Cover this with grated cheese.

Bung lot on the top shelf of the ready heated oven for 30 minutes. If you haven’t done it already, turn off your hob.

After 30 minutes, the Unpretentious Lasagne is ready to serve. Caution! Hot. Caution! Moreish.

Lasagne is good served on its own, but goes well with a small portion of fresh steamed veg.

Don’t worry if your meat/veg mixture isn’t cooked thoroughly in the pan, it gets a full half-hour of raging heat in the oven.

Enjoy!

Tune in another time for more unpretentious cookery.

Insane Bolt

(The start bit of this post really should have been published about three weeks ago.)

This afternoon, I saw a sporting feat that left me speechless. Usain Bolt from Jamaica became the first person to run the 100 metres in a time under 9.7 seconds *. And wasn’t even trying for the last 25. 

9.69.

That time is as long as it takes to read that first paragraph.

I thought that the TV had broken at first. That victory margin was so immense, it couldn’t be real.

Watching that started me thinking about my days as a champion sprinter, running the same distance in 11.07 seconds, ooh, more than a decade ago. After thirteen years away from the track, and numerous bacon sandwiches later, what would my time be now?

The other thing in my mind was Michael Johnson doing something similar at about 4am in Atlanta, in 1996 in the 200m. In some ways, the Michael Johnson race is more outstanding; Bolt shaved 0.03 seconds from the world record in his victory, in 1996 Johnson took 0.4 seconds off a record that had stood for twenty years, destroying a world class field. The pace even dragged the surprised Frankie Fredericks under the then world record mark.

(Fast forward a few days…)

Usain Bolt took Michael Johnson’s 200m world record away from him with another blistering performance to take gold in Beijing, reducing the mark from 19.32 to 19.30. 

(Further days pass…)

So, I stepped on the track, and after some practice and re-acquaintance with blocks and on track psychology, ambled to a decade’s best of…15.44s.

Can this be bettered? With I ever get close to 11 seconds again? Is there a better way to time these things than with an iPod and shouting?

All these questions and more will be answered over the coming month, in a quest to shave a second or so off this fastest time in thirteen years.

*With a ‘legal’ wind speed of less than +2.0m/s, accuracy fans.

It’s all about Personal Choice

Hello,

In April, I joined the gym as part of my charity diet preparations. Regrettably, I haven’t been arsed enough to collect the sponsorship money from the donators, but I digress. I have enjoyed the experience, and really enjoy Spinning and pushing myself on the machines – and enjoy being able to watch the cricket as I go.

Shortly after, I made a decision to stop drinking, 21st June to be accurate. It’s been two months, and it’s still a decision that makes perfect sense. I am enjoying myself more, and I seem to have more time than ever; this seems to be hangover recovery and wasted time leathered.

My life is becoming organised and my future seems to be brighter than ever.

I wouldn’t be preachy about this, and would agree that it’s not for everyone, but it really has worked for me. I’d rather go without than set myself a limit that I could persuade myself into bypassing ‘as a one-off’.

And I know that this may not last forever, but now it is the right thing at the right time.

Political Spot

Good evening, from the NTP political centre.

I was lucky enough to understand the end of the Cold War, and feel the relief of Europeans and the coming together of nations who had been separated by ideology for decades. The legal successor to the Soviet Union (which, for a supposed dictatorship, voted itself out of existence) is Russia. Russia failed to come to terms with the demands of the capitalist system, many of it's soldiers were unpaid for months, and there were starving thousands who had worked all of their lives and whose pensions were worthless.

Under the variable Presidency of Boris Yeltsin, Russia dug in for transition to capitalism and braced itself for some further harsh years. To aid liquidity, the nation sold off many of the nationalised industries in a massive privatisation move. This worked wonders, with many of the businesses proving to be hugely profitable, a source of tax revenues for the nation, and drawing tentative investment from the West.

On the eve of the Millennium, Boris Yeltsin handed over power to a virtual unknown, the unassuming short-term Prime Minister, Vladimir Putin. Nothing too serious was mentioned about his KGB past, as the world celebrated 2000.

Fast forward nearly a decade. The men who owned the privatised businesses are now rich beyond the dreams of all but a handful of people. These men are now, in some parts, household names. Roman Abramovich, anyone? The companies that generate the highest profits are those which utilise Russia's abundant natural resources, like Gazprom (gas) and Sibneft (oil). 

Due to resources dwindling elsewhere, and other factors, these resources are suddenly enormously valuable, and Russia holds the keys to energy prices for most of Europe.

If, for example, a nation failed to appreciate an aspect of Russian foreign policy then the Russian government could turn off the gas to that country or increase the price dramatically. In winter, this could bring a shivering nation to it's knees. Which is more or less what what they did to Ukraine in 2007.

During the last year, Putin's tenure as President came to an end, and he moved downstairs to become Prime Minister whilst 'puppet' President Dmitry Medvedev was elected. Spookily, Medvedev used to be on the Board of Directors at Gazprom.

With the rearming and new confidence of the Russian Army, allied to the strategic power balance with the countries that rely on Russian resources, it would take a bold leader (or a suicidal one) that would challenge Russia or Putin to a fight.

And this is where we are today. With Russian troops and navy surrounding and probing inside Georgia, Georgia's biggest ally the United States is reduced to throwing strong-sounding comments instead of bullets.

The United States will never invade Russia, and neither will it provide the more realistic idea of sending fighting troops to support Georgian defences. The chance of accidentally or deliberately firing on Russian troops is too great a mistake to make. And the 'coalition of the willing' are already hugely stretched with our War on Terror.

As diplomacy, calls for withdrawals and ceasefires are sternly put forward by Condoleeza Rice and George W Bush, it is interesting to draw a parallel with the Iraqi invasion of 2003. At no time were the Iraqi Government given the opportunity to come to a table to talk over their differences with the US. And I find it offensive that the US has the gall to chide Russia for "illegal entry into sovereign territory", as American troops still patrol Baghdad.

As Mark Thomas pointed out; Iraq was invaded not because it was strong, it was exactly the opposite, it was because it was weak.

With the United Nations Security Council being made up of five permanent members and five temporary ones, and Russia being one of the permanent members, unanimous decision to censure Russia will never happen.

And this is why we are in the situation where Russian Generals can make claims that even The Sun can't make any more sensational:

Just for contracting themselves with the US's missile defence system, Poland is now under threat of a nuclear strike. Where does this leave Britain, with its American Army bases and Union Jack painted nuclear missiles in Norfolk?

Is this a temporary phase for Russia, or is this the start of a dangerous new period in world history?

Ladies and Gentlemen, giving you the headline story of rest of my life: The New Cold War.

I Was A Teenage Hitler Clone

Idea for a film! Not my life story. Honest.

It is November 1989, in a secret laboratory somewhere hidden away in East Germany. Two bearded ginger scientists rush around feverishly knocking over bottles and shovel papers into a concrete mixer. There is panic in the air. There are suggested links to cloning in the laboratory. As they continue to destroy ‘evidence’, they uncover a long forgotten safe, which has never actually been locked.

Inside, there are some effects, an old parcel of papers, and a dusty test tube with a tooth in it.

The scientists stop and look through the papers. This is the writings of Otto Unterhosen, the fabled researcher from the early days of the East German regime. They are agog at the unexpected discovery.

Detailed diagrams and graphs, and copious black and white pictures. The investigation becomes more hurried, then stops when they see a photograph of Adolf Hitler.

There is a circle of red crayon around one of his teeth.

Our two scientists make the link that the tooth is the last remnant of Hitler. Obviously, being communist faithful, they jeer loudly at the tooth of the detested leader of the fascist regime.

Their thoughts turn to the possibility of using the stored DNA in the tooth to clone a Hitler that could possibly be used good; maybe propping up the falling communist government, and the thought also occurs that they could make lots of them to chain to benches across the nation to be given a good hiding at any opportune moments – a stress Hitler? 

Anyhow, this is to irresistible an opportunity to miss, and with the sounds of ‘freedom’ playing on their radio, time is ticking down. They boil the tooth and extract the DNA in a way that is only possible in a short comic film. Preferably with tweezers.

So our scientific heroes (for want of a better phrase) store this DNA in a container with obvious danger markings. Knowing that time is against them, they shovel all the rest of the available papers into the concrete mixer and run out of a side door, leaving mess everywhere.

Here, there is a plot detail I’m yet to decide on; somehow the DNA makes it to a city in England, either on purpose or design. Is there a crash of some sort, or a plot that sees one of the scientists move here and marry.

This plot is vital, as it follows to the main crux, as very soon the Hitler DNA is (either by accident or criminally insane scientific design) impregnated into a ‘nice woman of child bearing age’. The more wholesome the better, this decades equivalent of Felicity Kendal, if you will. Scientists go to ground, in hiding.

Fade to black.

Caption: Today…

A skateboard park in suburban UK land. A cheerful helpful teenage voice is out of shot, saying polite and thoughtful things. Wide shot of the teenager reveals teenager in typical Emo clothes, but with obvious Hitler fringe and downy moustache.

Cue mishaps, as the child struggles to come to terms with occasional outbursts that are out of keeping with his wholesome upbringing, and lots of Nazi style imagery which the Emo kid fails to connect with. The essential point of the humour is that the central character has to totally oppose the views of the Nazi party, and if possible, come across as the Anti-Hitler.

Eventually the scientists come out of hiding when they see the kid win a national niceness competition of some sort and try to track the kid down.

In the end the kid is told about his genes, and he’s happy with it as the message is it’s out upbringing that defines our character and not out hardwired DNA.

Title of the film? No idea. But I’d pay to see it. I may have to write star, film and direct it myself though…

Maplins – Poorly Constructed Consumer Rant

I really dislike Maplins. As I have mentioned before, everything I have ever bought from there has been an absolute disappointment. Including the new satellite receiver I bought a few weeks ago. I returned it to them today, expecting a prompt refund.  This didn’t happen, and it may take fourteen days to get my money back, as the unit has to be sent for testing. Whilst there, I saw that they have raised the price by £10.

After this, I questioned the receipt; after all it said “return me within 14 days for a refund”. Ah, but the unit has to go back for testing before Maplins can me the money.

Maplins have taken my money hostage. I have nothing to show for my receipt in terms of goods. 

Arseholes.

I shall never set foot in that blasted shop again, unless it is either to continue to claim my money back, or to fart loudly.

Double arseholes.

Bringing The Summer of 1986 Bang Up To Date

Hello.

If you have ever thought to yourself; "What happens when the people at major financial institutions have to wait between bits of work finishing?", well the answer is usually find something else to eat. However recently, thanks to an inspired moment of lunacy from Miss P, we bring to you the smash hit from the summer of 1986 re-worded for the binge-drinking generation. Obviously, writing something about chavs would be easy, and they wouldn't work as well with the 'source material', so here is the middle class - far too much wine - surprised man in chinos - version. With full accreditation, and directions for the music video too...

Lady Gone Red

With sincere apologies to Chris De Burgh

New words by Nothing Too Pretentious and Miss P

Scene: Dark alleyway. Brick wall behind. Man wears sports pullover around shoulders. Man looks thoughtful into middle distance. Gentle movement of busy town centre in background. Music begins. Man sings:

I’ve never seen you looking so munted as you did tonight

I’d never seen you have a fight

-

I’ve never seen so many doormen ask you if you wanted to leave

They’re looking for a little more calm, given half a chance

I couldn’t see that dress you were wearing

Oh, the highlights in your hair that match your eyes; you might be blind

The lady gone red, is hanging off me, cheek to cheek

There’s nobody here, it’s just you and me, you scared them all away

But I hardly know, this mad bint by my side

I never will for-get, the way you drank tonight

I’d never seen you looking so spaced out as you did tonight

I’d never heard you talk such sh*te, you were amazing

I’d never seen so many police want to be there by your side

They threw us out the pub, they took our drinks away

And I have never had such a feeling

Such a feeling of complete and utter shame, as I do tonight

The lady gone red, is hanging off me, cheek to cheek

There’s nobody here, it’s just you and me, you scared them all away

But I hardly know, this mad bint by my side

I never will for-get, the way you drank tonig-hight

I never will for-get, the way you drank tonight

The lady gone red

The lady gone red

The lady gone red

My lady’s gone red.

Scene: Dark alleyway, wider shot. Man holding wife’s hair back as she vomits spectacularly. Fade out with close up on man’s crushingly disappointed face.

Organised

Evening,

I am running the Fantasy League that will probably be worth three days of unpaid work, as well as being the most responsibility I have been given since starting work at a bank.

I have no fear; at the weekend I visited Muji on New Street, and was overcome with a Zen like calmness and desire for order. This exploded across my life over the past few days, and I have been de-cluttering and ordering everything within reach. Observe:

Nearby there is a sign announcing "Get Organised or Die Trying". I spent about £8 on a wonderous heavy plastic set of drawers that have sprinkled Japanese, efficient, elegant magic to my work desk at home. I also bought a spray bottle that not only sprays and does jets, it works, and works well and has a satisfying silence and grace. The Honda of spray bottles, if you will. My basil plant (Ocimum basilicum) will surely be watered to death over the coming days.

The crappy satellite dish is ready for return, my lunch for work tomorrow was prepared in stunning fashion at 7.21 this evening. How long will this last?

So I am largely organised. I didn't get an interview for the job I was after; never mind. The pile of post I was complaining about from my printer has gone; KABOOM! Actioned and filed. 

Two tasks down, several more to go.

Sarcastic Work Experience Report

Timekeeping: Not sure. Never seemed to be at her desk.

Learning Ability: Limited to stuff about texting

Appearance: Wretched, with special mentions to jeans and trainers

Motivation: Seemed to be money, violence and watching television

Relationship with other employees: Non-Existant

Relationship with manager: Possibly hostile

Ability to follow/seek guidance: Ha!

Ability to work in group/team: Never in a month of Sundays

General comments: Possibly the squadron leader for the next wave of inconsiderate mouth-breathers that will further tarnish the name of our once great nation. I weep for all of us, for in fifty years, thei children will care for us in our nursing homes, unless, I can finally get my hands on some automatic weapons.

Letters to The Editor

Morning,

Yesterday evening, with the more than able assistance of Mr. W, we created some reactionary and subversive letters to The Evening Mail, and The Sun. Here they are:

Knives:
My 14 year old loves Facebook and I was happy for him to use the internets to chat to his friends. After your front page, I grounded him and filled his computer with sand. Now he hates me, but this is a small price to pay for his safety. It wasn't like this in my day.

'Concerned'

Asylum Seekers/Illegals:
I am stunned to read of yet more mindless violence on our streets, caused by these so-called 'asylum seekers'. In my day these criminals would have been thrown out of the country, but now, because of the do-gooders, they are given a hotel room and free Sky TV. Disgraceful.

General:
I agree with S.T. Vaughan. I wouldn't trust most MPs as far as I could throw them!

"Youth of Today":
On a visit to my local shopping centre, I was shocked and disgusted to overhear a conversation between two youngsters at the bus stop. The language they were using I can only describe as unprintable! It's about time they brought back national service to instil some integrity, manners and respect in the youth of today.

Disgusted Citizen, Frankley

On The Buses:
As we hear so much in these pages attacking Birmingham's bus service, I feel it is only right that I put pen to paper to praise the driver of the number 63 bus who greeted me with a cheery smile today. Following an altercation with some youths, he proved himself to be the model of professionalism. Keep up the good work!

June Badcock, Rubery

"The Germans":
I was shocked and appalled to read that the Barber's children were not allowed to play on the swings - unlike the German children. How Mike Barber restrained himself is beyond me. Remind me, who won the war, anyway?

Anon

Yes, 'internets' is deliberate...

A Few Quick Points

I have been monumentally disappointed by everything I have ever bought from Maplin Electronics. And yet I still visit.

There is an intermittent loud buzzing which could be either a big, angry wasp, a hornet (eek!) or a small motorcycle trapped behind the drawers. Either way, it's freaking me out.

Some proles living nearby are having a laughably small rave. I can only just hear the music, but every ten seconds or so I hear a "Whoop!! Whoop!!". It's like it never went out of fashion. Or possibly they are trapped in a horrendous 1995 time-warp.

Tiny book review: Richard Hammond can write about his recovery in a grown up and illuminating way. Mindy Hammond's version of events seems to involve a lot of crying and being brave. I don't doubt that this didn't happen, in an immensely traumatic time. It seemed to me like I re-read the same page twenty times. Sorry. Still an NTP recommended book.

Tidy Up

Hello,

In line with the current downsizing and clutter removal I am doing, please note that some well loved features of this page have been removed;

• The "Weekly List"
• The Daft Passport Picture
• Quite a few books off the "currently reading" list

Added however are:

• Subscribe to this blog with RSS or other newsreading software!
• Books scheduled to read as soon as I have finished the "Currently Reading" section!
• Updated and relevant links! (Includes links for Birmingham's immediate and longer term weather, the Baltimore Orioles site and Magazine Monitor amongst others)

Hopefully this will give you a more harmonious and possibly useful reading experience as you pass through this site.

Do come back soon.

Here are some words I invented...

Yep, just came across some words that I claimed to have invented in 1998:

• Glurty
• Sleb
• Gimm
• Perbulo
• Teg
• Flubble
• Gnaah
• Joom
• Furt
• Nenvex
• Goom

Ooh!

Introducing you to my current desktop at work, stretched full (if you want the full vision). Best viewed in 4:3 square-o-vision, then you get the magnificence of the spherical cloud. Originally only meant to be up for one day, this replaced the vandalised "Windows NT" with NT crossed out and XP written over the top after 11 months.

Of course, this was to commemorate the Trinity test of July 16, 1945; the moment science theoretically could have destroyed the world. The results were less devastating than that, but still deadly enough for its cousins to virtually end World War Two.

From scientists theoretically having the power to destroy the world, the governments of the world now have enough to destroy the world five times over.

Enough doom though - what an astonishing image. Captured (according to the always correct Wikipedia) 0.016 seconds after detonation. Props to the legendary Berlyn Brixner who took the photograph. He's still very much alive, and he's the only 97 year old I want to meet. He is famously also the inventor of the Ultra High Speed shutter.

Something Light, Please

Hello

It has been a week since the last time I was able to check the internet, as my lovely T-Mobile web system has decided to go kamikaze. I think that 'the big computer' has been infested with some nasty sodding virus, which is causing a denial of service attack every few minutes. Cock.

So I have relocated to the surprisingly pleasant early evening sunshine in the conservatory with the laptop. (Fully updated with a leading brand of anti-virus software.) In the distance I can hear children playing with a hose, a helicopter, and smell freshly cut grass. Re-reading that sentence, it seems that the children are playing with a helicopter and some grass. This is wrong, but I can't be bothered to retype it.

I have also spent humungous amounts of time reading Derren Brown's book, Tricks of the Mind. If you click on the title, you can go to Amazon and get a copy, should you wish. It has filled me with confidence and boosted my brain, as well as handily slapping psychics and alternative medicine. I also now how to 'do hypnosis' and some rudimentary card tricks. Well worth a read.

On the subject of books, there are quite a few I need to finish. I am desperate to finish Richard Hammond's story of his life threatening crash in 2006 - will he survive? I won't know until I finish the book. Nice read, however it seems to be written for children, by both of the Hammonds. Full review if needed on completion.

Nothing much has happened with the Radio stuff yet, but I have built some fake newspapers in the classic style, for work. And mentioning work, I applied for a new job today. Lets see what happens.

The sun has moved lower in the sky, and the children's yelps have been replaced with the relaxing sound of police cars and wheelspins.

Mentioning police cars, the first edition of this series of Top Gear was on NTP TV last night. My technique of minute detail watching spotted that not only did JC have "In prison, no-one can hear you scream", but the unremarked "It's the filth" in capital reverse letters on his bonnet. Class.

Right, think i might get some coffee. Back later.

Musings

Hello world. I have succumbed to a debilitating and cruel injury, which has seriously knackered my typing and general computer skills. This is a nightmare for personal and professional reasons, not only will this blog update take hours to type - The Rest of the World as led by Tiger Woods will have to wait until I have recovered for their savage beating. And work will suffer too, but that's not important,

So I have some arse of a skin disaster, which in essence, tears each time I stretch the fingers on my left hand. Not nice. And a course of antibiotics and (really) cream that is usually marketed to sufferers of thrush.

Anyhow, enough of the rubbish.

Have you ever met anyone who has the ability to make you feel like the most special person in the world? Like you are the only person that has ever existed for them? Where occasionally, that person would with the right word or smile melt away the biggest problem that has ever happened? You could spend hours just thinking of them, and their happy smiling face. Even the merest thought of them unhappy makes you angry.

Conversely, have you ever met a person who could, with one word or movement of the face, fill you with dread? Make you think 'Ooh, Jesus.’ Bring you out in a huge cold sweat, and make your heart race with a mild terror.

Now, how many of you out there had the pleasure of person a being the same subject as person b?

I'm sure it can't just be me, as I have had more than one instance of this.

Moving around the subject, I visited an ex today and saw her beautifully arranged house and happy lifestyle, with the whole varied social life and successfully indexed and handled correspondence. This all sat well with her toned body and sunned complexion.

I then compared myself right now, with the same standards. We have both had exactly the same amount of time to shake our lives down following our break up.

I live in a box room, in a friend’s house, where the only people I talk to regularly seem to be my colleagues at work. All my possessions are strewn around the city, most of them in unattractive storage containers. Currently, I have just taken possession of my DVDs, and the only way I could reasonably store them is in an old suitcase - which I can't even open up because of my hand.

The food I cook is often the very finest of the two pot variety (look out for my cook book shortly). All of my post is precariously balanced on my scanner. Six months of it.

This brought huge waves of introspection; was I jealous? I have worked hard over the last few years to overcome my insane jealousy, so I'm fairly sure that wasn't it. It then dawned on me that it was my own lack of motivation that made me feel down. If I had driven myself to look harder for a flat, I could have a nice-ish place of my own. The post would magically be handled if I responded to it swiftly, instead of leaving it to gather on the scanner. My food would be more interesting if I could be arsed to cook something that wouldn't easily fit in two pots. Then, I may have the 'go' to wash the chuffing stuff up.

So, it's not jealousy - it's my own problem.

I then handled some frankly bizarre questions about 'us', and as I put two and two together to make a figure surely in the high teens, my subconscious was poking me in the eye and screaming "She's seeing somebody new!”

Everything seemed to fall into place. Little clues around the place that my overactive imagination was forensically stitching into shape.

This made my heart sink. I actually felt sick. Even though it shouldn't have any bearing on me.

I have had girlfriends who have gone on to have a legion of kids by a selection of hand chosen unsuitable men. I know they have had sex with other men; damn, there is living proof. Here, the merest unproven suggestion was sending me into uncharted gloom.

I really don't have any opinion. What she does is no longer any concern of mine. But to have those feelings are a very deep concern. Is this natural?

Indeed, if I was to have struck up some improbable immediate relationship after leaving her, would my feelings be the same?

I am a man, screaming towards thirty like a runaway cliff-top house, with the insecurities of a five year old and the social skills of a cat.

Sorry if this all seems gloomy and down, but trust me, it feels better to be on the page than racing around in my head.

Fear not! There are some redeeming features. At the very bottom of the page, I asked "can I keep this up for longer than a week"? I have now been a user of Blogspot for months, so in the adopted words of George McFly - if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.

Madame B - Episode 3.5?

The Denoument Of Mme B

Todays short message from Mme B concerns only one star sign, so apologies in advance.

Libra

You will feel cold and upset by your general lack of thought and decency regarding your girlfriend, following an ill-advised and impromptu drinking session. Other feelings will include hurt, detachment and self-anger, aimed centrally at your own lack of control and propensity to create lies to cover your own arse when there is no need for you to do this, making everything ten times worse. This weekend will see you struggle to keep a relationship
together that you worked so hard to begin, and very easily tossed away. Libra, you disgust yourself, and you deserve the isolation that worry and guilt provide.

Other stars available on request.

The Farmhouse

I have a beautiful farmhouse in Norfolk. It stands proud over the rest of the flat landscape, dominating the nearby overgrown fields and woodland. I may be right in thinking that this is the highest point for fifty miles or so. Inside is everything you would find in a grand working house of the time - the huge fireplace, slate covered kitchen and warm oven at the centre, four cosy bedrooms and room for all of my dogs. I left there six months ago. I will never go back.

It began on a cold winter's night eighteen months ago when things started to...well...go a little strange. Mary, Isabella, Ralph and I were sitting round the kitchen table, talking over that days efforts at school when suddenly, my two dogs start barking and becoming agitated. Could they have seen a fox, I wondered? It would have been unusual for one of them to get through my new fence. As I rose from my seat to investigate the cause of all this noise, the barking from the dogs seemed to increase in anger, and maybe fear. I rushed to the door at once, and as soon as I opened it, the dogs stopped barking and dashed in to be in the safe position by the fireplace in the kitchen. I though no more of the commotion outside as my children and I comforted the frightened hounds.

After ten minutes, they were up again and moving around the farmhouse - but nervously. I never thought to check outside afterwards, it was bitterly cold, and driving snow was beginning to fall heavily.

Our dogs have seen snow before, surely it can't have been that which spooked them?

That night moved slowly toward the back of my mind as winter wore on - soon it was February and the days were lighter and longer.

On bright Saturday morning, my children and I went for a walk along the River Saundersfoot to see the first signs of spring, well, springing. Some snowdrops were pushing up against the softening earth, and we stopped and crouched to admire Nature's struggle.

Unexpectedly, there was a sharp gust of wind and what seemed like a loud, but distant cackle. All was still. Isabella, my youngest, asked for a reassuring cuddle. As I held her closely to me, as small birch tree snapped over in front of our eyes. We stood as one, open mouthed as tree after tree snapped in the middle.

I decided to get the children back to safety of the farmhouse as quickly as possible. As we ran from the river's bank, the noise of the destruction of the trees was unbearable. After five minutes we were far enough away to not hear the terrible force at work.

Shortly, we were at the door to the kitchen, which I always keep on the latch. It was locked, and stuck fast. 

A Pint of Lightning

I've been toying with the idea of an entire surreal radio station being condensed into fifteen minutes and being put together by myself, with me doing all the parts.

There would be a news / current affairs programme, sports, traffic reports, bulletins, weather reports, foreign reports, location interviews, etc. I should be able to do this as there are local soundscapes to use, and then mixing it in using Audacity.

I'm basing my thinking around Radio Five, which I have seemed to have absorbed on the two weeks I have spent away from work. This will also save me from lapsing into Colin the Inappropriate Hospital DJ, as I'm saving him for later and I can't use real music for copyright reasons.

Anyhow, here's a written sample of one of the weather reports:

James: And now it’s over to Alex with the weather, from the Melodramatic Weather Office.

Alex: Thank you, James. For the majority of the country today, there will be prolonged spells of incessant abject misery pouring from leaden skies, if not to irretrievably flood the country but at the very least drown it beyond recognition. Coastal regions will be too close to the wrath of Neptune to be spared. For Central end Eastern Scotland, it will be hotter than the surface of the sun for the best part of the afternoon, Weather Office advice is to stay indoors and paint everything white. And that’s the weather.