The Glorious 12th.

The start of the game hunting season is not something I take too much notice of. I don't really move in those kinds of circles, I've never been to a Shooting Estate and it is comparatively rare for me to eat game. Not that I dislike it. On the contrary, pigeon, partridge, pheasant and rabbit are very partial to my palate. I just don't think about it often.

Today though after my marvellous day out at the Market my grouse lies seasoned with pepper, anointed with bacon fat as recommended by the late great Clarissa Dickson Wright, and covered with strips of streaky bacon. It will go in in about 10 minutes for around 35 minutes and be served with roasted potatoes, carrots, beans and if it works out a gravy make with meat juices and port.

I feel most cultured. Rossini opera is on and a nice glass of red is breathing away ready for quaffing shortly.

Being on holiday can be good even when one does very little. Apart from a hair cut and a little shopping today has been a take it easy day. Unlike much of the time since I left work on Friday I slept reasonably well. The dreams had made a most unwelcome return and hindered my recharging.

Tomorrow I will catch the bus to St Alban's to meet my friend Kevin. Some Moroccan food is the plan and a few hostelries. So will have to be up a little earlier.

It looks like I will have to make another foray to the phone shop as I confirmed today a number of messages are failing to get through. So not only did they lose my photos the phone doesn't work properly. Beginning to regret going in to change it. People keep asking when my stream of fine food pictures will reappear on social media. The answer is I don't know. Taking ages to master a faulty piece of junk. That said it take lovely pictures.

Time to get back to the kitchen. See you in September.

I Heard a Voice.

Shades of Granada.

Ola! Happy birthday to me! I didn't think I would get to blog today but after a marvellous day out with dad and Beka I'm home relatively early, still full from lunch and enjoying the late sun.

It has been a day that took me back to the city of Granada where of course I met Rachel and went with dad 3 years ago. I wasn't thinking of Rachel today, hadn't crossed my mind when I decided to write. It was a day for us. And what a day.

So long since I made it to the wonderful Borough Market a favourite spot of mine in town. After trying Brindisa in Kensington with my friend Rebecca back in the winter I wanted to try the one at London Bridge. And by God did we go to town. Pitchers of Estrella Damm, sardines, anchovies, prawns, octopus, medium rare pork fillet, olives, cured beef, squid, good bread and tons of fun. A lovely friendly Granadan waiter. And as in Spain the sun shone brilliantly and we sat outside getting nicely tanned and watching the world go by.

And then the Market. Having checked my balance before leaving-pay day is tomorrow-I was somewhat more restrained than usual. I came home with Sri Lankan cinnamon, dried turmeric, mace, pimenton for my friend Gary, sheep's cheese from Spain, a wonderful looking wild boar pate and to top it all a grouse to roast for my supper tomorrow.

Back at home I'm still so hot from town I'm actually in shorts. Cooling off with a chilled beer and Rick Stein on.

On days like today I am reassured that I'm so blessed with the many kind people in my life. My love of good food. And that the devil that is mental illness was politely absent on this my birthday. Please stay away.

I Heard a Voice.

Adventures in Cheese.

The rains finally came today. Not as so often happens in late summer with a fearsome crack of thunder and a great flash of lightning. No that steady but persistent rain that heralds the changing of the seasons.

It was another night of dreams and a late morning. Not sure why but that old nemesis of mine bad dreams seems to be making an unwelcome come back. It is not as bad as it used to be but makes me edgy and tired in the mornings.

On such a Sunday Miriam and Nigel came to visit and took me out to lunch at The Waggoners. Laurent and his crew certainly spoiled us today. Smoked chicken and leek terrine, wonderfully rare beef, and cheese. Yes I took the cheese option and was blown away. Given the recent deluge of French people reading my blog in the last couple of weeks it felt right for an adventure in cheese. It was sublime. Miriam joined me and had a piece of everything on the trolley except the Rochefort as neither of us are great fans of blue cheese.

A few weeks back I was in there for a pint when the cheese man arrived in the refrigerated van and great excitement ensued. I can see why now. I have missed out all these years in cheese barbarity.

What will tomorrow bring? More rain? I don't really care. I just hope for fewer dreams and a gentle day. For the day after I turn 47 with trip to Borough Market with dad and Beka. And Thursday marks the 9th anniversary of moving to Hertfordshire.

I Heard a Voice.

Semi Deserted Streets.

Where has everyone disappeared to? They seem to have vanished. On another close but overcast Saturday there is no sign of the sun and not much sign of life. I did my usual trip to the butcher, then town. It was so quiet. Bought a couple of pairs of Levi's in a sale-shame sale wasn't after pay day but seize the day if you can. I have a Tsing Tao with Yang and a nice cappuccino in Waterstones then home with my new purchases, cleaned coat and very expensively altered blazer.

All the doors and windows are open in the flat and a gentle breeze is barely shifting the stuffy air in here. I fancied listening to strings again today and was overly indulgent-Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata in the car and now Mozart String Quintets at home.

My mood is buoyant, I have no anxiety and I'm looking forward to fresh linen when I eventually go to bed. Before then the obligatory visit to my kitchen. Prawns are the plan tonight, trying out a new recipe marinated in sumac, coriander, lemon and garlic then fried in olive oil. Perhaps a little Lebanese salad to accompany it. Light and healthy.

Miriam and Nigel are coming tomorrow and we have a table booked at The Waggoners. I guess it will be rare beef again then. We will exchange birthday presents, hers late and mine early.

So many good things coming up in my break but for now I sit back with Mozart, a glass of Pimm's and Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast. Very much enjoying that.

I Heard a Voice.

In the Heat of the Night.

The parched lawns of the University and parks of Welwyn Garden City give witness that this has not been a write off of a summer. Sporadic yes but intense heat and humidity have marked days and weeks as we hurtle towards autumn. It is a beautiful evening. I had a quintessentially English supper of Coronation Chicken, organic salad potatoes and cucumber with a Spanish guest in the form of a chilled glass of Albarino. The marvel of genius that is The Marriage of Figaro is guiding my quiet evening and the start of my holiday.

Yes I have finally made it. No more work until 12th September. There are days out planned-possibly too many. I will eat too much and drink too much. I will visit Borough Market on my birthday with dad and maybe Beka.

What is missing from that equation separated as it was by a final day of work was my lovely evening with the always magnificent Ros.

In the intense heat and humidity of town on a busy Thursday evening we regained ourselves for a few hours. A pint in The Porcupine then on for the first time in some years Jamon Jamon on the site of the old Sporting Pages bookshop on Charing Cross Road. It was carnage there. The food almost as sporadic as the sun, stretched but friendly service, nice but not overly hot tapas and wonderful company.

The two of us have had a lot of downs since we last met and certainly not enough ups. Yet when we meet we talk as true knowers, searchers and believers. It reminded me that at times I'm most at home in the company of people who know the mad world.

We both know it and on the face of it we have both defeated it. We got out. We don't always stay out but are not where we once were.

I hope it is not another year before I see her. I know she will read this and may find it emotion provoking. But Ros we did it, another year. Let's meet sooner next time.

I Heard a Voice.

A Jaunt in the Country.

After the debacle that was yesterday I needed things to improve and so far today they have done. It was time for a jaunt in the country.

The English countryside is littered with quaint little villages. All would originally have had a pub. The churches in the main still stand. And the roads to get to them can be narrow and treacherous. But in the late summer on such a gloriously warm and sunny day why not? I found myself by way of a missed turning in the village of Sandridge this afternoon. Kym lives there.

Until today I had not found the church. Nor The Queen's Head pub. Can you believe there are 3 pubs in the little place? Said pub it turns out is right next to the church. So after a lovely pint of Tribute I took a look at the church.

In common with all such churches there is a memorial to those who died in war. Brave is a politician who sends our sons and daughters to war. Braver still those sons and daughters fighting for causes that may or may not be just. In all the turmoil of the current world there is still a huge poignancy to those records of young men who died 100 years ago in what became known as The Great War.

Every church I visit I take time to look. And at Sandridge there is something slightly different. The memorial gate that stands at the entrance commemorates not only those who died but those who fought and survived. I've never seen that before.

It was a restorative trip. Part of our English heritage of which I'm so proud and admiring. Do not let the right wing take our flag for most are good. As I have noted before so many of these old pubs are closing. Church attendance continues to dwindle but let us hope these old Norman buildings remain for eternity.

I Heard a Voice.

Not My Day.

Days off work are supposed to be fun, relaxed and joyful. Well my day has been anything but. I had a few things to do today, donate to charity shop, get my coat dry cleaned, get a blazer altered, get a new watch strap and look into upgrading my phone. Of those the only thing that went right was the charity shop.

Who could have thought a watch strap, a clean coat and an altered blazer would cost more than £50? Yes it was that much. Thinking nothing else could go wrong I went into the empty Vodafone shop to ask about a phone. Nearly an hour later I had a new phone, I'd had to move the car as my parking was running out, I'd lost all my photos and only just managed to get the numbers from the old phone to the new one. Is it really supposed to be like that?

On such a humid day I came away too hot, too stressed and too irritated for a holiday day. I suspect it will take me weeks to work out the new phone-I am that bad with technology. In dire need of the drink I vacated to The Sun at Lemsford for a pint-cue irritating, arrogant, sarcastic barman. Fuck off! Not today.

Back home I'm edgy and irritable. Don't know what to do with myself and can settle on nothing. Let us hope tomorrow is better. It is another free day.

What to do then I do not know. Maybe a country drive. A walk. Whatever happens I do have something to look forward to as I'm meeting Ros in London on Thursday. I always enjoy her company.

I Heard a Voice.