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I had better write the blog before the cava catches up (btw. if I do not write about drinking on this blog I probably have not been drinking; apart from the times I have been drinking so much I cannot even write the blog with my thumbs).

A gradely, top hole, bonzer, huvah, da day (I think that covers all my ethnic heritages, including sounding posh despite going to a right rough comprehensive, having a background as earth as is possible, and never wanting to talk posh; just clear about what I mean).

If you have never seen one of my shows, and are thinking of coming to one, but are not sure the subject matter interests you, then the last paragraph should suggest any show I do will be full of unbilled, and unplanned, diversions.

Set the poem to Jan my solid gold poem tester. I thought it needed at least polishing, and Jan confirmed it. I added 2 lines, and changed a few words and line orders, and did my first “Dilbert dance” for a long time (I would do a link for the ‘Dilbert’s engineer’s dance of conquest’, but cannot find one, though I have just mailed Scott Adams to ask, and will make a little fuss on here if he replies). The latest, and last, version also fits the plan I had for the picture.

I then did the picture. Drawing outlines, acrylics and tubed watercolours, Airfix enamel, then a watercolour washes for the background. I painted the detail was going to use friskets (a word I learnt from a commercial art dictionary Bradford Library got rid of in the last cull.) but openned the cava before I finished; and the Michael Barry recipe was so flawed I ended up deciding to finish in the style of a pre-human who has just discovered alcohol, and the fact that jobs like killing a mammoth is not as scare as first appeared, and needs to be done straight away.

It looks well, is as planned (though obviously not as good as I saw).

The dinner was ‘French style roast chicken’ from Barry’ Jamie Oliver style roast potatoes; and my mum’s style oven steamed cabbage. Cabbage and potatoes were best I’ve done.

The chicken recipe is plain dangerous. It has a chicken covered with lemon juice, then garlic sale and ground bay leaves (I just ground salt, garlic and bayleaf in an egg cup), put on a rack above a roasting tin with water in, roasted for an hour at gas mark 5. Nothing about weight.

I have tried this before. The flesh on the legs cooks enough to fall off if you grasp one in 40 minutes. He says the usual: poke a skewer into the thick part of the leg, if juices pink it is not done). I did that and got clear juices. When I carved it the blood was spruting out. This time I gave it an hour and a half. It seemed fine. When I went back in the kitchen there was blood on the carving plate.

I liked Barry’s style, and some of his recipes are very good, but I think I will be throwing the book in the recycling skip, after tearing the cover off.

The bleaching did not lighten the cheap curtain at all, so I still need something to paint a banner on, but I have had immense help from ilkley more .

Managed to talk to David Wright about possible dates for the next Little Britton Show as well.
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