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A book crossed . . .

My first release of a book into the wild via www.bookcrossing.com "The Weekend Novelist"

I have left it at the bus stop on the A38 near Computershare. It is Sunday and very quiet up there so I am already worrying about whether it will have to spend the night there. This bus stop has no bench so I had to prop it on top of the timetable board. The alternative was to leave it on the ground where it could get rained on or even peed on by dogs or foxes.

I have often, in the past, left books on my garden wall but have never known where they go. I hope this book is found by someone who has internet access.

I am reminded though of my history of sharing books. When I was about 10 years old my friend Katy and I decided to set up a library. We had a folding table and a book shelf and we put tickets in all our books and made bookmarks to sell. We laid out our stall in the grounds of The Methuen Arms Hotel in Corsham - her parents owned the hotel and it seemed to us that we had a great number of potential customers.

The bookmarks sold well and we took our entire coinage over the road to the Corsham Book and Record shop and bought Lady into Fox and something by Susan Hill. I hope I am remembering it correctly. By the end of the long summer holidays, we had saturated the bookmark buying public. We bought no more books and not a single person borrowed even one book though we had a varied selection of both children's and adult's titles.

Jan. 1st, 2011

Green now after snow
a worm moves over
a quiet needle

Felted Slipper update . . .

Last time I mentioned these monsters, they had over shrunk and turned pink. Suitable for me but not Laurence. FFwd to this morning when they have had a chance to sit awhile and get accustomed to being slippers rather than socks and it seems that they have relaxed into their new lifestyle and relish being a larger size again. Laurence sized but still pink. Relaxation doesn't affect colour! I will probably over-dye them a darker, blokier colour as Laurence loves the fit and snuggyness of them.

Another time I might try making the gusset deeper. I usually decrease every round but a youtube video shows a decrease every other round which might be better.

I am now in sock making mode - welly socks next.

Menu Madness . . . driven to review

Once upon a time, I lived on North Street, Bristol. The Lounge was conveniently located under my flat and I went there daily - not least because I had no lounge of my own upstairs. North Street, for those who don't know is an eternally up-and-coming area of Bristol; It's been "the new Clifton" for about 15 years or so but I digress.

Tonight it was decided to head down into Bedminster - as I call it - or Southville as it is known to those with vested property interests for a stroll down memory lane and a swift half in The Lounge. We decided to have a bite to eat and ordered Tapas - a mistake as it turned out. While I was waiting for this snack to arrive, I took a closer look at the Specials board. One of the dishes caught my attention:-

Winter root vegetable & goats cheese tart with house tossed salad & garlic bread.

I can hardly be encouraged to get excited over "winter root vegetables" because I know what "winter root vegetables" are. Perhaps the majority of diners at The Lounge are ignorant of such things although I would like to think they know what they are as allotments are very popular in this area. So perhaps they are still being blinded by the notion of "goats cheese" (there should be an apostrophe there somewhere surely but then again there should have been a "t" in "chesnut" further up the board so perhaps I should let that pass.) as ultra trendy but what I suspect, what I can only hope, is that the punters are as thrilled as I am at the thought of "house tossed salad"

My mind swirls with the vision of a building vomiting lettuce and goodness only knows what else - in the summer it would no doubt be "seasonal leaves" onto the plates of unsuspecting customers.  Why is it, that until now, they have not mentioned the tossing of salads? And do they toss it in something or merely hurl it about dressingless? In an age when menus give the life story of what will be put in front of you, it seems that house tossed salad is lacking definition. I fear that if it is anything like the tapas put in front of us (after 20 minutes) the reality, as well as the description, would have proved to be lacking in definition - although, to be sure, they would then require you to see it as "wilted" rather than dressed-this-morning.

The tapas was plob. This is a term my father would have used and describes the meal quite well. Dolmades from a catering pack; slighty slimy with soggy rice and with the over powering taste of old dried herbs. Stuffed peppers - from a catering pack. Spiced, shredded pork which looked like tuna flakes in brine with an oily coating and which tasted of slightly burnt star anise. The chorizo in red wine with onions was probably the best of the bunch even though the wine needed to be cooked off more and there presided on top, a large spring of fresh coriander leaves - no doubt a miss-tossed salad leaf as it certainly didn't belong with the other flavours in the dish.



the felting process has wiped out the blue aspect of the yarn so that what remains is a sort of pinky-purple which isn't quite Laurence's bag BUT as luck (?) would have it, whilst the first pass through the washing machine left Laurence's toes flapping about in chasms of wool, the second one has reduced them to a size that pretty much fits me! Crumbs! I have promised Laurence a more manly (and better fitting) pair once I can pluck up courage to go through all that again.