Unplanned days ~ surprise!
Recipe:
Purchase precooked, frozen.
Bounce around in a car boot for a day.
Take for a jaunt on a car ferry.
Delay cooking while those around you, folk passing by, give advice.
Locate oven.
Do knowing bloke talk about Celsius and Farring-Height.
Think of a number, wop doughy globs nearest the element that’s working.
Shut oven door.
Discuss Plan B and locate a cafe that serves pain-au-raisin.
It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
“A cheese and onion toastie Sir?”
Plus flat white, was served to me.
A cafe upstair . Bubbly holiday crowd.
Back car on, wobble wobble. Drive forward to get off.
So far they all speak English.
Auckland city. I have always walked past this corner shop and cafe to my preferred cafe. But there lunchtime was over, expired, gone. So I returned to the cafe on the corner.
The staff member delighted with my thank you for a fine salad. Familiar accent, Rome, a lively conversation and I departed for with a free meal tucked under my arm. “See you again,”I say –
No free salad next time!
Laughter.
When the cafe is breezy
Thank de Lord
But why does my cat want to snuggle up INSIDE the bed
?
Paint splatters, french doors almost complete. Cat a-zizz.
Coffee time.
This afternoon a river swim but, a warning, beware of slow moving warm water, slimes and stuff.
Put cat in tower
Cat escapes
Put cat in tower
Cat escapes
Wait
Cat gets in tower
An eel.
Our hottest day this summer. Happy families in the river. It’s warm.
An eel swims by. He’s superb at underwater. I depart company over water. A young woman about to enter the water. Instinc . A shriek.
I swim my lengths and depart while the woman is still negotiating terms with Neil the Eel. I am sure they will come to a fluid arrangement.
Sprightly pensioner makes a run for it
In the beginning there was bread
Bread from grain then from that grain
Whiskey
Kiln dried, it’s Irish you see
So the whiskey is spelled with a ‘e’
In Scotland it’s boiled over twice
In Ireland once more – distilled thrice
In a barrel three years to gain flavor
Then two drops of water to savour
From grain to whiskey to the artisan, the cooper, the barrel maker
Near forgotten skills of staves, croze, the chine
And so it came to pass on this Monday afternoon
A day from rain to a drop of water
Jameson Cooper’s Croze
In sunlight, amongst flowers
And talk
Of Whisky
And Whiskey
Put it in a clear plastic bag and put pressure on it
You see the needle turn.
A barometer.
An eight year old’s curiosity, another way to read the weather.
Hanging on my wall I haven’t looked at for years.
I read the barometer, the weather, on my watch.
And I don’t unless someone is coming to stay.
When you come from L.A. Thames is a tiny place full of curiosity.
The famous grandson from ‘over there’ is real. Here he is,
Patiently standing beside adults, the women
Huddled about old china, new ceramics, artists, styles
“I’ve got…”
I am not eight but eighty. I have learned that the more a piece is
Huddled about, whispered over
The less likely it is to be used.
Just treasured.
Along the road and past the chatter of reunited holiday families,
A shop of new and used clothing, guitars, whistles music scores,
And long-ago purchased books, cherished, moved from house to house.
A page is turned. A box, surplus to needs is donated.
Price, one dollar? Negotiate and for two dollars –
David in Pen and Pics