Tiddly tiny aubergines have been harvested. As the nights draw in and there is a distinct chill; the plants might hari kiri themselves at some point.
This is by far the most number of aubergines I have ever harvested. Ma assures me that these will form a curry of some description. They are small and some have been gnawed upon. Just don’t make me eat them.
I got a little bored of chopping tomatoes, so only half of that trough actually made it into chutney. Lots of green tomatoes, with a onion, garlic and ginger base.
Were added to cider vinegar, purée tomatoes, mustard, cumin, chillies, cayenne, paprika, turmeric, peppercorns , fennel and white mustard seeds. Cooked slowly until a large amount of the liquid has disappeared.
I did put a fair bit of tomato purée so that it didn’t look like a green mess. So far it tastes as though it has a kick.
A couple more cauliflowers were harvested today. The third was actually on the turn, with the florets looking a bit with worse for wear. One is larger than the other. The baby one was used to feed us at lunch time in a a stuffed chappati.
This is it. The one and only reason growing yellow tomatoes. I wanted to make a yellow tomato chutney relish thing. This is an recipe for chillied tomato relish that I have adapted. You will see from the image what has been added. Whilst I have failed to grow any orange habaneros, two hot Thai chillies did find their way into this relish as well as one big red one and two green birds eyes. I have plumped it all out with yellow peppers.
Doesn’t look too bad, but perhaps too many mustard seed. A bit tart at the moment, but it will be sitting for at least a month.
If you like downton, the village, Jeeves and wooster. You will like this. The setting of the stage, is brilliant. Well crafted and reminiscent of the Edwardian-I think-era.
Then there is the story. Two, interwoven romantic narratives. Tugging at the heart strings, you also feel your sides split with hysteria. Never has The Bard been so funny. Well, the propeller company’s Midsummers night dream is the closest comparison.
The setting is good, lavish, resplendent. When the ladies of France and the princess arrive, you are transported back to a window in history. The age of aristocratic elegance. The king, his courtiers, have the most beautiful dressing gowns as they swoon over their respective ladies on the roof.
The Spanish fella, and his valet, offer the second love struck story. No idea who he is, but that is the role that would be Stephen Fry’s if he fancied it. Or Alexi Sayle, for that matter. His story does lose a bit of weight and just fizzles out. I did find the scenes with the curate and master a bit superfluous. Perhaps my hearing is bad, but the master was barely audible.
The ladies do not swoon, they have the stiff upper lip here. They have the swagger of champions as the boys huff, puff and basically trip over their tongues. The boys, are in the full throes of love; as the girls push and pull without flexing a thing. They play games to agonise the boys. Shakespeare’s women, are in this instances, strong, wilful, and independent.
The play descends into a mirthful farce, song dance. The play within a play. With a cracking soundtrack, that gives the whole show a level of opulence that one wouldn’t expect for Shakespeare.
Not knowing the story, I fully expected the couples to end up together. That doesn’t happen, more fool me. Big surprise for me, given the romance. There was a lump in the throat as at the end; four soldiers march across the stage. A reminder, of how it’s partnered play ‘much ado’ is set in the same house after the Great War.
Looking forward now to ‘Much ado’.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my roses. They are beautiful, and mine have been really productive. A real pleasure.
Except this one.
This bloom, the blue moon hybrid rose. This has to be the most miserable rose I have had the misfortune of cultivating. It grows rather spindly and slowly, throwing up only a handful of blooms. Compared to the rest of the plot, this is a fairly bottom set rose.
This has to be the least successful year for me regarding chillies. Not a single one has been borne to fruitition, even with the poly tunnel. I had more success last year with out one! The orange and chocolate habaneros, bengle and Dorset nagas, serrano, jamaican jerk are lovely and green. There are clutches of where flowers. But not even a smudge of fruit. They are warm, mostly with the mild temperatures we have been experiencing; watered too. But this year I have experienced a complete and abject failure.
This is the only sunflower that has survived this year. As you can see, ids something of a seven headed hydra.
The sunshine has helped mature some of the tomatoes. As I await the vast majority to go red, there are a clutch that have gone a lovely bright yellow. Most of these are yellow stuffer. Whilst they are not the same size as yellow peppers, they are a similar shape. There is not a lot of tomato-y stuff inside, as they can be stuffed. These are a nice fleshy, firm fruit through. Not particularly delicate. I guess as they have a large cavity, they might not be full of tomato taste as one would normally expect.
Ma has harvested a cauliflower, she tells me that was football sized. I say was, as it has been eaten.
‘The man with the golden gun’
Yeah, M is definitely Bond’s surrogate dad. And I’m having to read M as Ralph Fiennes. As much as I like Dame Judy. It’d be Fiennes all the way. And Daniel Craig. A slightly skinnier, Daniel craig, though. And maroon5, their latest studio album ‘V’ is the on loop soundtrack to the end of novel franchise.
Right from the off, the novel hits the ground running. Continuing from it’s predecessor, the transition is clear.
Plus bond is a mess. You just know he is. The last mission and his already broken brain, of course Bond is in pieces. He is bond, and not superman.
The opening, is brilliant, but a case of yes, what else did you the reader expect. Again, keeping up with the arcs is necessary. M voices this plainly, he obviously saw it all coming.
Above all. This is James Bond.
You do not rule out anything.
As a teacher of Psychology and student of counselling theory; I nearly choked on my iced lemonade. bond is treated by Sir James at The Park with ECT( the reasons for which are the brilliant beginning). Perhaps a reference to the developments within Psychiatry at the time at which Fleming wrote; the description of the procedure is strangely evocative of ‘one flew over the cuckoos nest.” I’d want to give Bond a big man hug, but in terms of counselling ethical boundaries want to listen to him. That would be an interesting situation. Bond and the person centred therapeutic approach.
We have the episodic encounter with the villain. The infamous Scaramanga. I found it clunky, and some what long and windy. Unsatisfactory, to say the least.
As ever, Bond is flesh and bone. A mere mortal, it would be rude for bond not to get damaged, dented and some what defiant. For all the poop that bond has to wade through, he should of course receive a pat on the back. The way in he says thanks but no thanks, is funny. Chiming in beautifully with how previously, bond hated being a faux aristo. One can only imagine what the Queen might say. She might even shove him out of an aeroplane.
There are two more Fleming ‘Bond’ novels remaining. The question posed beyond these two, is will I continue with the non canon books?
I dunno. Any advice?
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