Because Conrad Is Convinced You All Thirst To Know
Just how this farrago of a blog is put together. First, you take a curmudgeonly middle-aged man with bad teeth and diabetes, then you crank him up on pints of tea and coffee all day long, prime him with cheese-and-ham toasties and then point him at a keyboard. End result = BOOJUM!
We need a picture with more click-baitiness about it than an ice cream maker. Hang on and we'll see what Art can come up with. Art, you coke-chewing minion, get on with it and be inspired!
I've no idea what this is, but the artist is Chris Foss, so it'll do nicely
Or at least that's part of it. Art!
Here's me being creative with a variety of food processor, hence today's title. You won't remember this device unless you've been a reader for about seven years; it's an ice cream maker that I put away and neglected once I'd been diagnosed. SHAKES FIST AT DIABETES! The paddles still turned when I plugged it in, rather to my surprise after that long a wait. Yes, it's a little noisy but stil functional. The food processor that I bought last year, however, stubbornly refused to work at all, go figure.
Here's a few of the ingredients: cornflour, icing sugar and egg yolks, and raspberries, both pureed and whole, and blueberries. What you can't see, because it's out of sight, is the pan of soya milk and vanilla essence cooking gently on the hob. The recipe is one for diabetic ice cream, you see. Essentially it's the old one from seven years ago; make a custard and then add in soft fruit, with the secret ingredient - a couple of tablespoons of vodka.
The vodka, you see, doesn't add any taste yet the addition of alcohol prevents the ice cream from hardening to a single monobloc. It's freezing in the freezer overnight and I'll doubtless try a bit tomorrow.
For the first time I've looked at a few of my old ice cream recipes in years and see that they all require at least four ounces of caster sugar - my diabetic version only has a couple of tablespoons of icing sugar so probably less than two ounces total. I'm now wondering if one can simply substitute Canderel or similar for sugar in these recipes, and how it would affect texture in addition to taste. A bit of internet exploration awaits!
Right, it's ridiculously late at night and this old curmudgeon desperately needs his beauty sleep. Snoozles!
Okay, I'm back for the morning after. Sober, serious and sound of mind (so far, though the day is yet young). Art!
Some of you may not be familiar with this artefact. It's a 'book', specifically a 'notebook', which one 'writes' upon with another hand-held artefact called a 'pen'. Despite all the hideous technical mummery of the twenty-first century, enough dinosaurs like Conrad survive to make these still available.
You can see my characteristic scrawl, making a list of titles for blog items, annotating a vlog, and outlining the beginning of an article about "Day Of The Dead". I note stuff down as it comes into my head, as well as sitting down to deliberately list what the blog is going to be about. Art!
This is a list of browser bookmarks, that is, pages I've made a note of to come back to in future, which in years past I might have written out longhand. It's a lot more efficient to label pages like this in order to come back to. There do seem to be a lot of them at present. Better get working on the backlog. Art!
The Biter Bit
I just had to share this one, it's a classic Reddit from Youtube about karma coming back to fasten it's incisors in the bottom of a bottom-hole.
Okay, so Original Poster said that her dad was absent from home a lot, busy earning lots of money whilst being rather a failure as a dad. Art!
Also cultivating an impressive gut. Hey, you too can achieve this at 41 if you really try! Anyway, one day dear old dad comes home and informs Wifey that he's not getting 'what he wants' from matrimony and wants an open marriage. A somewhat gob-smacked yet dutiful Wifey agrees, with a fair bit of sly support from OP, who can see exactly where this is going. Dad instantly has carnal relations with his receptionist.
On the other hand, Wifey establishes a dating profile (actually conjured up by OP) and proceeds to have carnal relations, too. With lots of partners. She is, by OP's account, quite the looker who kept fit with lots of gym and training. Of course - obviously! - she keeps dad up to date on all this, because in an open marriage you need lots of communication, right? Art!
CAUTION! For illustrative purposes only
Over the course of a year, Wifey (I can capitalise her now) had many partners, whilst Dad got stuck with the receptionist, which led to him getting furiously angry over little nothings, eventually trying to 'close' his open marriage. Wifey shot him down instantly.
Dad then left to stay in an hotel and filed for divorce.
The last laugh is still on him, as it transpires the business he spent so much time and effort on is actually in Wifey's name, so he's going to be a fat, broke divorcee whose receptionist will move on to greener pastures.
You can tell I'm a terrible person because this story made me laugh out loud.
Stitchin' In The Kitchen
Not literally. I mean, who would set up a Singer next to the chopping-board? No, I mean another silly kitchen invention from South Canada, where they seem to focus on taking money from those with too much of it. Art!
How could you justify spending $400 on a machine when all you need is a pan with a lid and a dab of oil? Conrad has done popcorn like this in the past and all you then need is a salt-shaker with icing sugar to sweeten the popcorn. Of course, because this is South Canada we're talking about - Art!
How Dog buns! idle must you be to want an electrically-powered device to save you from twisting the cap of a grinder two or three times? Are they battery-powered? Or do they charge from the mains? You do realise that the level of complexity increased by having an electric motor in them makes them prone to breakdown (kitchens being humid and warm places)?
"City In The Sky"
Our favourite Gallifreyan and companion are doing frighteningly prosaic things like getting a room for the night.
‘We shall be the very models of probity,’ said the Doctor, clutching his
boater over his hearts. Looking slightly
awestruck,
‘I think I’ll turn in right now, Doctor,’ said Alex. ‘I feel done in.’
He got a shrewd glance in return.
‘Yes, I’m sure you do, I’m sure you do.
But, before you do - ’ and, wielding the sonic screwdriver, he proceeded
to make a request that made the weary Alex frown in surprise.
Next morning brought more riders from more townships further along the
coast, impelled by the courier mails to seek out the newest arrivals on their
island continent. In all there were over
twenty people, weatherbeaten and rangy, all immensely curious about the
travellers.
Alex and his mentor came down to order a breakfast, after carefully
hanging a “Do Not Disturb” sign on their assigned room, and came into abrupt
confrontation with half a dozen of the new arrivals, who wanted to know who he
was, where exactly he came from, why he was here, who the boy was, when
he’d be talking –
Sorry, it can't all be violent action and adventure. Maybe tomorrow. If you're good. Art!
It's real - who knew?
What Goes Round
May end up on the BBC's themed webpage about 'Circles', and it may additionally end up on here, heh. Art!
Courtesy Diana Turner
This is about the last interesting picture in the collection so don't expect any more circular shizzle. Pictures of bracken or headlights pall rather.
Finally -
Typing this up with my heated mittens on, which are not conducive to rapid progress. O well.
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