This week, I am mostly writing parts of a booklet to accompany a new professor's inaugural lecture in June. It helps that I find the subject interesting.
Going to view a house this afternoon. I'd buy it if only for the delphiniums in the garden and the uninterupted view out of the kitchen window across fields, rows of aspens, willows and alders, countryside and rivers to Europoort and the Pernis oil refinery and its flare stacks on the south bank of the Maas/Rijn (Meuse/Rhine), but the windy miller might take a bit more persuading. As many of you know, every time I moved jobs, I moved house (and usually at least 150 miles). He has never moved. Ever. This might be an interesting experience.
I am distressing un-British in my concept of the perfect breakfast. Coffee, really good bread, cold meat/dry sausage, cheese/cream cheese. Optional glass of red wine if it's a late breakfast. Almost needless to say, I haven't had that breakfast for about 18 years now.
[Phil] Counter with Eggs, Sausage and cheddar on a croissant. Alternatively, four link sausages on a buttered bagel with HP sauce. Dammit, now I'm drooling all down me shirt.
[penelope] Your description of the view cued (unfairly) the following in Mr Brain: Oh I often take these night-shift walks when the foreman's not around Turn my back on the cooling stacks and make for open ground Way out beyond the tank farm fence where the gas flare makes no sound I forget the stink and I often think back to that eastern town.
[Stevie] Ah. As it happened, the estate agency used a very talented photographer, and the house was disappointing on many levels, not least the many levels (steps up and down into EVERY room, despite being re-built ten years ago or so). And the spiral staircase was wound so tight it could have fitted into a submarine. Imagine carrying laundry baskets up and down that! So we're re-thinking. And looking at another one in similar location (sans view of the refinery), a better aspect to the garden, but which is the current owners' unfinished project. We were hoping not to have to take on a project, but as the windy miller is a construction project manager by trade and we can't find the ready-to-move-into house that we were hoping for, it seems daft not to take advantage of his talents. In other news, it's raining.
[Phil] Then unwind the DNA a bit - you can have them as shallow and broad as you like. That's why I was so disappointed that the odd couple selling the house we looked at had decided that no-one with feet larger than size three - and certainly no-one ever carrying a basket of laundry - was every going to attempt to go upstairs. Mill News In other news, it's national mills weekend in the UK and in the Netherlands this weekend. Can I recommend that you make an effort to visit your local mill, take the tour and buy some flour or a tea towel? (And then go home and make scones, obviously - I can send you a very easy recipe in Dutch or English if you like.) The windy miller's mill (De Korenbloem (Cornflower) in Zonnemaire, Zeeland, if anyone's interested) will be open all day, and the chef from the local restaurant (De Ouwe Smisse - a fab place where all the meat, fish and lobsters are cooked on an open fire) will be making pancakes for visitors in the mill. I think I will be washer-up for the day.
{Stevie] penelope thinks you should unwind the DNA a bit - you can have them as shallow and broad as you like. That's why she was so disappointed that the odd couple selling the house they looked at had decided that no-one with feet larger than size three - and certainly no-one ever carrying a basket of laundry - was ever going to attempt to go upstairs.
As a committed fan of staircases (I was looking at stairporn.org yet again on my lunch break yesterday) and a pedant, I would be much happier if they were called "helical staircases", unless the radius does actually increase or decrease as one climbs.
Apparently it is limerick day . . . well, unless in it no longer May 12 where you live . . . But it is here, so, hmmm . . . I shall create a limerick A woman who knew she was blue Said, " 'ello, how do you do?" The children all ran As fast as a van Making her cry, "Oh, boo hoo." I know, it's not great. But, it was quick and fun.
These stupid made-up holidays I wish were a long-dead past phase. Every day a new thing! What will next Tuesday bring That will fail to amuse or amaze?