- what? you expected something different?
Today, before setting off for work, Conrad rashly challenged the world to Bring It On.
World promptly took up the challenge of challenging, meaning I forgot my bus pass, then had to hunt it down and as a consequence missed the bus.
Then it took half an hour to overcome the palsied narcolepsy that infested my works PC, a situation that it felt honour-bound to revisit several times during the day, usually whilst on the phone to a customer -
Speaking of which, Conrad fielded 50 phone calls over the day, about twice the normal daily total, including some where the caller combined a touching 1960's naivete about computers with malfunctioning earpieces and unresolvable database problems.
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| It's in Glasgow and they boil beef. What, you thought I was fibbing? |
FOOD
And here an aside about edible - mostly - stuff.
Polo Smoothy
Conrad heard this phrase mentioned in passing, and - he probably had time to spare - wondered how to make one. No! Not with real Polos, much too hard and gritty, you might as well have a Silicon Dioxide Smoothy*. Conrad made his with milk, yoghurt, banana and peppermint flavouring.
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| White as a polo shirt |
The verdict? Perhaps a capful too much of the flavouring. Once this month's pay arrives Conrad may consider making it with mint ice-cream instead, except that's usually coloured green. O if only I knew someone arty who could advise which colour combined with green makes white ...
Lemon and Coconut Cake
As Suzi is leaving on Friday, Conrad not only has to compose a bit of doggerel rhyme for her, he is also obliged to bake a cake for her, in this case the above named, since she thinks it's the nicest cake ever made.
If Conrad goes to the after-work do on Friday, then he has to do the weekly shop on Thursday instead of Friday, which means - between that and Pub Quiz - he won't have time to bake anything on Thursday, so I baked this cake yesterday -
Lemon Drizzle Cake
(Tee Hee! I feel so deliciously wicked, copy-and-pasting from the above): As Suzi Kay is leaving on Friday, Conrad not only has to compose a bit of doggerel rhyme for her, he is also obliged to bake a cake for her, in this case the above named, since she thinks it's the nicest cake ever made.
If Conrad goes to the after-work do on Friday, then he has to do the weekly shop on Thursday instead of Friday, which means - between that and Pub Quiz - he won't have time to bake anything on Thursday, so I baked this cake 
"Jack Daniels Sauce"
Not entirely sure where I overheard this particular phrase, but it does make one pause and reconsider. A sauce, at it's most basic, can be nothing more than fat and flour with milk added in, from which the dedicated chef can construct more complex recipes. Conrad is curious about this one, but would probably only buy a miniature of JD to practice this with (despite his surname he is not over-fond of whisky)
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| Jack Daniel Source. Close enough |
The Runcible Spoon
It's not edible, but you - perhaps - can eat with it.
Conrad can identify why this mysterious object came up for discussion - he was washing his spoon in the sink and caught sight of a rather more elaborate one.
You may, or may not, have heard of Edward Lear, purveyor of nonsense verse to Victorians. "The Owl and the Pussycat"? "The Pobble Who Has No Toes"? "Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones"**? He invented the concept of a "runcible" spoon, but never defined what it was, exactly. Or even vaguely. Thus a whole tranche of illustrations and objects and images have evolved over time as to what a Runcible spoon may be.
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| A giant mobile one-tonne runcible spoon |
Okay, aside over. That wasn't too bad, was it?
Revelations
As this is Conrad's blog, he is allowed to blow multiple trumpets in praise of himself and his works, even if you don't like it. Especially if you don't like it. In fact, if you don't like it he will find out where you live and come to camp on your doorstep, with his flock of trained weasels, and lo! your life will take a turn for the worst. Weasels, you see -
Actually we're getting off the point.
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| If it's this point, I'm quite happy to be off it (Conrad. Hates all musicals) |
What was the point? - Oh! - yes, I remember. "Revelations", the zombie novel. Now into the last chapter of Year Four, and already I'm thinking of amendments and additions to the earlier text. Major Holmes, for example, has to have a visit to an old ex-Army chum now in practice in Harley Street, who tells in graphic detail how devastating Omega is going to be across the UK (subtly extrapolated to the whole world). Dee himself needs more background; he is a horrid right-wing reactionary and this needs bringing to the fore, alongside more activity and contacts beyond the khaki wall of the Army.
There. How an author thinks.
Okay, I don't have time tonight to go into the Great British Bake Off, since it's already after ten and were I to continue it would be Thursday, at least. Maybe tomorrow.
Finally
Notice no pun about "fin" here - what the well-dressed Antipodean is wearing this season - the Weasel Shark as fashion accessory, dahling ...
| "Weasel shark Weasel shark. Nice and quiet, does not bark" |
* "Silicon Dioxide = Sand.
** I lied about this one. It's a collection of short stories by JG Ballard, and an album by the greatest rock band ever to come out of Sheffield.
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