a light dinner preparation

I am just in the process of making a chicken curry following a recipe I found in the hairy bikers cookbook my sister Anne gave me.So far it looks very promising.Later I shall make a channa masala, cucumber and onion raita, sag aloo (coz I got loads of sag and am not short of an aloo or two), boiled rice (basmati of course) and something made from courgettes and aubergines ( that's zucchini and egg plants for the uninitiated or berenjena y no tengo idea ).The chicken curry has been prepared and will cook slowly for a further hour.All this grub will, of course, be washed down with wine and no it won't be served in a poncey fashion. I don't do presentation.If my guests want that they will have to venture to the modern Tate gallery where I am sure they will find something that will appeal to their visual senses

There comes a time in one's life when one has to take stock and make the kind of decision most of us would rather not do if only because it reflects one unending truth about life i.e. as we get older, we become slower, weaker and less agile.I say this because I recently completed a task which, in hindsight ,I should probably have left alone given all the above plus the fact that I didn't have at my disposal the kind equipment that would have rendered the task quite straightforward.By that I mean a mobile platform and a motorized pole cutter to compliment my existing hedge cutters.

The task in question involved the heavy trimming of a massively overgrown Leylandii hedge which was all of 15 ft high by 10 ft deep across the top.The width of the hedge was not an issue but the greenhouse which butted against it was.Such hedges at the very least should be trimmed once a year but Mr. W, its owner, decided to let it grow for two years which meant that the branches standing proudly were very much thicker than normal and in some cases, at least 1 inch in diameter.

When I first looked at the hedge my mind was still at the 30-year-old stage and I saw it as a challenge for it is quite normal for a superannuated old git to think he can do things he used to do, that is until he is faced with cold hard realities.Old father time is never kind on one's basic faculties so much so when I finally finished cutting the bloody thing I quickly came to the conclusion that my body was no longer the lithe machine I expected it to be. By that time I was trying to work out what words to use to MR W which might be a politer version of "from now on you can stick your hedge up your arse" Then again I like him so I maintained a stoical silence only betrayed by the thinnest of smiles 

A regular extending ladder was never going be enough, especially with that farking glasshouse in the way so I bought some stabilizers which I attached to it thus transforming it into a de facto very tall step ladder.Fine, except the stabilizer plus ladder was extremely fiddly to assemble and time-consuming to use.The words "boludo ,me cago en la puta que lo pario" and whatever English variants I could think of ,gushed out of my mouth with complete alacrity.

As time went on I came to the conclusion that such a ladder was never going to be enough.Fine around the greenhouse provided I took my time and was extra careful, but the rest of the hedge was going to need something a lot more robust i.e. a 12 high double width scaffold tower,(about half the height of this http://www.laddersandscaffoldtowers.co.uk/…/Industrial-Scaf…).

I thought assembling it would be a piece of piss and that I could complete the whole job in a day.WRONG! .I asked the delivery bloke if it was quite straightforward.He gave me a rueful look, took a deep breath of air and proceeded to explain what to do, ending with a "once you have done it once it's normally quite simple but I would rather you gave me a ring if you find yourself struggling with it because there is a knack to getting the higher level on top of the other" 

Nice chap I thought, but my the 30-year-old brain was having none of that.I was going to get that contraption assembled on my own no matter what.Fortunately, I had a step ladder to help me on my endeavours although it still meant raising the side sections to at least head height. Then I placed the 9 foot long boards, two one level and the remaining two on the other By the time I finished my 62-year-old body kicked in and I was totally fooked.No more work for me that day, I decided.

Next day I roped Nelly in to give us a hand.She was proper good she was, raking all the cuttings, disposing of them and helping me drag the tower along and around the hedge as and when required.For cutting purposes, I used a regular hedge cutter, a long handled hedge cutter, a pair of loppers and a long handled lopper. All told we spent a good 5-6 hours, at the end of which the end result looked pretty good.Then the dismantling.Fuck it, I thought, I'll do that tomorrow.
That didn't take too long but it was almost as arduous as assembling it due to the weight and my paranoid fear of dropping a section somewhere unwanted such as a greenhouse.At the end of it all I gave a deep sigh of relief and vowed not to do it again

What happened to soap

There was a time when not so long ago bars of soap were common place, those 4 inch white ,pink or yellow slabs that sat beside ones taps in the bathroom , albeit sometimes rather messily .They were used to wash our body parts , including hair . They were even, at times, used to wash our dogs in the bath with, that is before shampoo appeared on the scene.Wonderful stuff shampoo , basically its just detergent or washing up liquid with scent added and given a particular generic name ie shampoo.At first there was just one type but them some bright spark decided to make it gender specific so we had his and hers shampoo.Then they decided that dandruff was a problem so they created a particular variety which did sod all to get rid of dandruff but they didn't tell the public that.

One day another bright spark decided to add certain ingredients such as jojoba and aloe vera on the premise they are some kind of natural healthcare product which would do wonders for peoples hair .Most people had no idea what jojoba was but it just sounded right so sales shot up.

Likewise whilst they knew aloe vera as that succulent indoor plant that sits on a window sill, they had been sufficiently primed about "its incredible health giving properties"so again sales shot up.It just goes to show if you tell a lie often enough and in the right way you can easily deceive the gullible . 

But why stop there? Lets add some mango, banana and avocado in the mix too, surely all natural products which would improve our hair tenfold.Now I have an ongoing question .Who is responsible for this crap? Could it be the Body Shop? For it is they who first pioneered the idea of chucking organic crap found in jungles and deserts into cosmetics and which might tie us back to our hunter gatherer roots.It was brilliant strategy which worked wonders for their business model.The founders(Rodicks) became very successful and when they finally realised the concept was running out of steam they sold the business off

Now the shampoo industry is not known for missing a opportunity or, as they call it , a market so they decided to diversify further with intention of finally seeing the end of good old honest soap. First we had hand washes in plastic containers , then shower gels to wash ones body ,but not the hair for that was still the preserve of honey flavoured ,aloe vera and henna infused shampoos. 

Then some wag decided to create face wash because faces are different to bodies, you see.They have mouths, noses and eyes therefore require very specific types of , err , detergents.One thing under no circumstances should a man use face wash for his hands otherwise hewill incur the wrath of 'er indoors.Face washes are VERY specific and you must NOT use it to wash your private parts either.

Finally there is another body wash I once experienced, a gritty variety. Its almost as though someone decided to tip a load of sand into it ,the idea being that it would act like a sort of liquid sandpaper and presumably rid our bodies of all the nasty detritus accumulated over a day.Beats a loofah I guess.I used it once on my hair without realising what it was. Never again as it finally rammed home the whole idiocy the shampoo liquid soap industry is.

Life was so much simple when humble soap and plain cheap as chips shampoo was all we needed to keep ourselves clean.
Mind you soap has made a bit a comeback because some clever clogs decided to create a sort of retro variety which is cut off a board and sold in sections rather like cheese once was.Either that or sold in rustic looking balls and things that look vaguely edible. Niche concepts do work which is why Lush is also successful .You pay a premium mind which is why I avoid it another is because their retail outlets stink to high heaven,like the very worst over applied aftershave.

Once again i have been conned by a smiling young lady .Well not exactly conned as she works for the RSPCA ,trying to raise funds and one could see from her delivery that she had been on some sort of course designed to persuade the softheaded .The smile was so obviously manufactured and was accompanied by very contracted pupils, which are the true message conveyors, but i was sort of beguiled .Her smile has cost me £120 for the year but i have to believe its a good cause and the fact i like cats and dogs ,rather speaks for itself .Still her manufactured smile bothered me and like the greasy salesman from the used car garage, she delivered her patter with relentless conviction.Because her delivery was so obviously manufactured I wanted to get rid of her but at the same time the same smile had me trapped so I went along with her objective, besides I like pets.Nell never seems to be around when i need her and that smile was doing my head in
I felt inclined to take the mickey but she was a Swede and i do have sympathy for foreign nationals trying to earn a buck in this country., so instead, I told her about the Normans because we live in Normandy lane.Was she interested ?I doubt it. She has an English beau so I suggested she ask him who they were ,like descended from Vikings i.e. fellow Swedes.Beau, though, is a business analyst so small historical facts are hardly likely to be of interest to him.Then I showed her are our garden but her reactions was, shall we say, rather brief i.e. "yes very nice".

I can just sense my dear wife doing her nut but this Swede had RSPCA printed on her in big letters plus she had a card and the resulting paperwork is obviously genuine , so no fear of a con but i feel conned nonetheless.Why??? Maybe its because I like to make my own choices without feeling pressured in anyway.I like to feel the power is with me and I have not been coerced .These charities are clever because they play on your conscience and give you no opportunity to give things another thought .Time is not on your side ,you decide there and then and smiling Swede knows how to play the game to a T.
I decided to take things to the more inane and away from the business end . Why, I asked her, did she die her hair auburn if she is a natural blonde.?It made no sense.I mean Swede = blonde, right? Or am i stereotyping?
Anyway i found it difficult to indulge in small talk other than 'are you living here because the beer is a lot cheaper?' "No my boyfriend is English", was her curt reply.She does curt very well and always with that smile.Small talk wasnt exactly brill on my side either.She asked politely ,as one would expect from a disinterested salesperson-"what are you doing this weekend?"
'Err ,working all day tomorrow and sunday my wife and I will decide.No we are not going to any rip roaring club and will probably sit in our garden supping a few vinos. Are you really that interested or am i being neurotically defensive?' Maybe I should have said we would be going to a transvestites annual jamboree where Nell and I would be switching roles, but somehow I didnt feel she would be shocked .

Her smile was like a weapon designed to beguile but her eyes wore a steady determination which seemed to run counter to her smile.

There comes a time in ones life when one has to take stock and make the kind of decision most of us would rather not do, if only because it reflects one unending truth about life i.e. we get older , slower, less agile and less assured about ones capabilities,I say this because I recently completed a task which in hindsight I should probably have left alone given all the above and that I didn't have the kind equipment that would have rendered the task quite straightforward .By that, I mean a mobile platform and a motorized pole cutter to compliment my existing hedge cutters.

The task in question involved the heavy trimming of a massively overgrown Leylandii hedge which was all of 15 ft high by 10 ft wide across the top.The length itself was not an issue but the greenhouse which butted against it was.Such hedges at the very least should be trimmed once year but Mr W, its owner, decided to let it grow for two which meant that the branches standing proudly at the top which needed cutting, were, in several cases, at least 1 inch in diameter.

When I first looked at the hedge my mind was still at the 30-year-old stage and I saw it as a challenge.When I finally finished cutting the bloody thing I quickly came to the conclusion that my body was no longer at that stage of my life.By that time, I was trying to work out what words to use to MR W which might be a politer version of "from now on you can stick your hedge up your arse "

A regular extending ladder was never going be enough especially with that ferking glasshouse in the way so I bought some stabilisers which I attached to it thus transforming it into a de facto very tall step ladder.Fine, except the stabiliser plus ladder, was extremely fiddly and time-consuming to use.The words "boludo, me cago en la puta que lo pario" and whatever English variants I could think of, gushed out of my mouth with complete alacrity.

As time went on I came to the decision that such a ladder was never going to be enough.Fine around the greenhouse provided I took my time and was extra careful, but the rest of the hedge was going to need something a lot more robust i.e. a 12 high double width scaffold tower,(about half the height of thishttp://www.laddersandscaffoldtowers.co.uk/acatalog/Industrial-Scaffold-Towers.html).

I thought assembling it would be a piece of piss and that I could complete the whole job last Friday.WRONG! .I asked the delivery bloke if it was quite straightforward.He gave me a rueful look, took a breath of air and proceeded to explain what to do ending with a "once you have done it once just normally quite simple but I would rather you gave me a ring if you find yourself struggling with it because there is a knack to getting the higher level on top of each other" 

'Nice chap' I thought, but the 30-year-old brain was having none of that.I was going to get that contraption assembled on my own no matter what.Fortunately, I had a step ladder to help me on my endeavours although it still meant raising the side sections to head height but at least.Then the 9 foot long boards, all four of them and as I went so the side poles slotted in.By the time i finished my 62 year old body kicked in and I was totally fooked.No more work for me that day, I decided.

Next day, I roped Nelly in to give us a hand.She were proper good she were, raking all the cuttings, disposing of them and helping me drag the tower along and around the hedge as and when required.For cutting purposes, I used a regular hedge cutter, a long handled hedge cutter, a pair of loppers and a long-handled lopper. All told we spent a good 5-6 hours, at the end of which the end result looked pretty good.Then the dismantling.'Fuck it', I thought, 'I'll do that tomorrow'.That didn't take too long, but it was almost as arduous as assembling it due to the weight and my paranoid fear of dropping a section somewhere unwanted such as a greenhouse.

I have decided to name this day as JC day in honour of the great messiah who will one day return .I say that because the BBC have in fact not sacked him , instead they will not be offering him another contract to present Top Gear.

This means they have left the door ajar for him to return in some other guise which means his followers can salivate in anticipation or beat their bishops if they happen to be male.

Its in light of that, that I have decided that all JC followers should celebrate the great man's life and his deeds by having a meal at a Mexican restaurant ,that is if you can find one . Better still go to Mexico for there are plenty there.
I thought this one would be a good way of honouring him, his co presenters and one of Top Gears most infamous programme .The one in which they likened certain makes of cars to the national character of the particular nations they are made in .Not that they were stereotyping in anyway but it appears that the one made and designed in Mexico ,ie Mastretta MXT , is in their view very like your average Mexican ie “lazy feckless flatulent and likely to fall asleep staring at a cactus”. Excuse me a minute -hahahaha , There i laughed .Hard work but i did manage it

Apparently they cant do food either because its “all like sick with cheese on it”.Now those two comments cant exactly be attributed to JC himself but as all three presenters are in it together , they might as well be , besides he chuckled noticeably as they “discussed” the merits of a car which looks very much like a Lotus Elize but only does about 0-60 in 5 seconds , which is obviously very lazy ,feckless and flatulent.

As an added extra I would change the number plate to one that reads ElAlamo1836 because I cant think of another that might wind Mexicans up.They won that battle but ultimately lost the whole of Texas .
Upon arrival you will disparagingly ask Manuel for a table .I say Manuel because as an avid Top Gear fan you will have decided that all Spanish speaking men are called that .Once seated you will look at the menu and decide that refried beans would be the perfect embodiment of Mexican cuisine .

It is known to them as frijoles refritos , but you wont waste any time in speaking to the natives in their native tongue . Instead you will firmly demand “refried sick with cheese Manuel, and we want it pronto ,capiche?” Manuel has been here before because he has had dealing with many an arrogant gringo so he just pretends not to feel insulted .Instead he makes sure that refried sick is gobbed on repeatedly before serving the dish, which also turns out to be luke warm.

As a committed JC fan and supporter your moment arrives ,the one you have been waiting so you then indulge in a barrage of verbal abuse lasting not less than 20 minutes - ”I asked for hot sick not lukewarm ,you lazy cnut.I wanted sick hot you hear , hot !”

Dont forget to froth at the mouth, stand on your feet, wave arms around in unrelenting fury at the end of which you may deliver a well aimed punch at the scoundrels lip.”Do you know who I am , have you any idea.I am the immeasurably great JC?”. Another punch may be delivered as your colleagues cheer in unison.Its the only thing the natives understand ,you know.

The patron will obviously ask you top leave but dont be too despondent because a petition will be
raised using Change.org into which 1000 people will sign demanding a full apology from the patron, the Mexican government and any Dago that takes your fancy .A years supply of hot sick should be delivered to your doorstep as well.

I hope no ones thinks I am being ironic, heaven forbid.

By the way frijoles refritos are very nice, can be bought at Sainsburys (or other stores) together with other Mexican delights such as guacamole ,enchiladas, burritos and tortillas .Should you be brave enough you could always attempt making a Mole Poblano which is Mexico's national dish.
None of it looks anything like sick with cheese on

must be losing my fear of spiders .as i walked through the front door I felt this fluttering feeling just above and to the right of my right eye. I thought it might be a daddy long legs .It wasn’t ,it was a Boris the size of a something nasty .It didnt bite me which is just as well, but i didnt throw a fit either