America
Letter From Stafford, Three
I don’t get out as much any more now that I’ve learned to do my work online. Slouching behind a steering wheel 200 miles a day has been replaced by slouching at a screen waiting [more…]
Hobbies
Diary
A View From The Greenhouse; Eid Mubarak, Suckers
Along with every other part of the country we’ve had a bit of “Man Climate Change Made Warming Cool Global” weather over the last couple of weeks or so, (more of which later) which has [more…]
Animals
Larry’s Diary – Week One Hundred And Eighty
Monday It’s a beautiful Monday morning here in Westminster, even if it was a bit wet overnight. The sun is out, the sky is blue and it’s even a bit warmer. The woman who looks [more…]
20th Century
A River Runs Through It
Le Train Bleu Last time we teased that we were arriving at a quayside in Ostend to connect with the Istanbul Express as if Graham Greene’s characters in Stamboul Train. My grandparents’ Ford Prefect was [more…]
Cooking
Steamed leeks wrapped in ham
This is a Winter Dish, but if you live in the Land of Eternal November, who cares? You need: fresh leeks French or French-style slices of ham, as many as you’ve got leeks Salted butter [more…]
Cooking
Eating the Bugs…
There have been reports in the press recently about the approval of insects as an ingredient in the human food chain. I have no objection to people eating insects – John the Baptist famously lived [more…]
Animals
Automations in my Home: Conclusion
Welcome back to Cnutelectronics! It comprises the same bone headed ignorance, overenthusiasm, poor research, pointy metal things as Cnuteneering, and also adds the additional danger of very hot soldering irons. We left this project with [more…]
Animals
Larry’s Diary – Week One Hundred And Seventy-Nine
Monday A good Monday morning to you all. Very dull and chilly this morning, I thought it was supposed to be meteorological spring! The talk of the office this weekend has been the Rich Boy’s [more…]
20th Century
Ostend For Greeneland
According to those better able to describe such things than myself, decades ago the crossing to Ostend was one of drenched decks, the smell of steam and oil and of stale Bass from the bar. [more…]