Slices of domestic life in the House of Y

1. So yesterday, people of blogland, I made polenta. It’s this newly found enthusiasm for cooking, you see; all of a sudden, I can do it, and the finished product is usually rather good. I think. Except for polenta, which is fucking boring.

-J, I shriek, polenta is fucking boring.
-I know, he replies. He doesn’t know, of course, because he lives on tatties and slices of I can’t believe it’s not cardboard smothered in peanut butter; but if he pretends that he does, he thinks I won’t force him to try it.
-How do you know?
-Err.. my dad used to grow it in the garden. And frankly, if I see one more polenta, I’m going to e-x-p-l-o-d-e!
-Yeah. Anyway, it tastes of nothing, what can I do with it? I should phone my mum and ask.
-Why don’t you just google it? This way you don’t have to talk to anybody.
-No, I’ll phone my mum.
-Oh, she knows more than google, then, does she, he asks in that dangerous tone.
-I prefer the human factor.
-And how do you think all the stuff on google got there in the first place?
-My mum put it there!
-Exactly.

I don’t know who won, but even the cat wouldn’t eat the polenta. Next time, I think, cheese. Then you can all come for dinner.

2. I think the best way to not fall prone to a severe post-holiday depression is to start planning the next one. All I can say is: so many places, and if enough time, so little money. So now I’ll sigh watching the rain diluting London, and I’ll go back to reading Ulverton by Adam Thorpe, because it’s really really good.

3. Last night I had a date with my Special Lady Friend. We figured out that this was our fourth one. I don’t have anything to report except that I’m grateful for her excellent company, warmth, wit and kindness. (And she’s really hot, too.)

That’s all I have to say for myself today. Thank you for stopping by.