Edition 69: "He's a Michelin Star...."

Negative Soundbyters – a very fine evening to you all! As you might be aware today was the first day of the UK’s heatwave predicted for this week. The word is a relative one; as a saffa this would mean a sweltering month of 35 degrees-and-the-rest; in a UK context it’s when the sun shines for more than two consecutive hours. I almost didn’t have to bother with a coat this morning, but I bothered anyway because as a man that’s put a long, hard 16 years in the swamp, planning for all eventualities when it comes to the UK weather is critical!

That said looking out of my study window it is somewhat reassuring that the light is only now beginning to fade. My other reassurance is a very large Single Malt (to help with the creative process) to my left and a headless bunny to my right. Easy there all those animal lovers; it’s just a milk chocolate pilfered from the Easter Egg drawer. I also have a litre of sparkling water which I draw on; I don’t feel so guilty then imbibing the best that the Scottish Highlands has to offer on a school night!

As a brief aside, what is your approach to those who knock on looking for donations to a worthy cause? I had just returned home from the swamp and no sooner had I removed my jacket than Big Ben sounded (that’s our bell). Rafe was also sounding off at this juncture and Mrs H was looking to hand over the baton pronto. I thought “Let me quickly deal with the delivery guy” (because, well, who else could it be at this hour? A canvassing Labour councillor? I hoped for Amazon for obvious reasons!) But “no!” it was a very earnest young gentleman who launched into the virtues of his cause and sort of wouldn’t stop. One minute turned into about ten and before I knew it I was filling my details into an iPad and making a donation. By this time the baton was getting red-hot and Mrs H – and Rafe – were sounding off in unison from the depths of the kitchen. It was a fine balancing act between trying to be a well-meaning citizen and a father that was about to have his proverbials chopped off if he didn’t answer the call of duty!

Geopolitically it’s all been happening of late….

The US, UK and France flattened some laboratories in Syria that concoct all these nerve agents with about 105 missiles launched in response to the chemical gas attacks that killed 40 civilians in a Syrian village. The Donald got to say “FIRE” about 90 times; May-bot nailed it with about 8 and Macaroni sneaked in with a few late hits. The Russians and Syrians tried to convince the world that it was not state sponsored. The government said that it would produce “witnesses” (I can imagine that conversation; tell the world “x” or else) and the Ruskies were not keen on letting the ghostbusters into the area because it was not “safe”. Um…ja…more like a quick spring clean before inspection time! Tragic…

And RIP Winnie Mandela, ex-wife of Nelson Mandela, who passed away at the ripe old age of 82. She was a formidable, but troubled, woman who suffered terribly at the hands of the apartheid regime. I do hope she finally finds some peace.

And on that note, let’s move on.

Big Love

Hoddy x

Michelin stars.

Mouth-watering cuisine. Palette-dazzling wines. Ironed white table cloths. Polished cutlery. Attentive service ambassadors. Baby-in-a-high-chair?

We were out-and-about on Sunday with Rafe. I had the Caspers out enjoying that hour of sunshine mentioned above(!!), Mrs H was casually attired and Rafe was looking suitably stylish, in a baby sort of way. We passed a restaurant, “Trinity”, that Mrs H and I used to frequent back in the old days i.e. “pre-baby”. It had always been for special occasions given that the bank balance always suffered from a Tomahawk surgical strike after settling the bill.

Mrs H and I looked longingly at the menu pinned up next to the front entrance. “Look it’s a set menu and it looks reasonable for two courses….” said Mrs H excitedly. As the words tumbled from her mouth I was already adding in the glass of champagne, wine, the third course, coffees and the gratuity; and while the absolute number for two courses did indeed look reasonable, the whole shebang looked a bit like one of those chemical bunkers after a direct hit.

But life is there to be lived so we cautiously approached the front door, almost expecting to get push back given the little bundle (or slightly larger bundle given current dimensions!) in our possession. Plus I was wearing shorts. I expected the hand.

However the hand couldn’t have been more accommodating. It did show us into the restaurant equivalent of Siberia; sitting a yard from the toilets isn’t my preferred locale but it was perfect given that this was Rafe’s first fine dining experience and my guess is that all the other customers were relieved that he was only sharing it with us and the toilet door!

To be fair to the little man he handled the entire occasion with aplomb. He sat in his high chair for nearly three hours and enjoyed what is best described as a “tasting” menu. From sardine lasagne to Cornish brill cooked in a sea urchin butter to St Brides chicken, Rafe was willing to give it a try – in baba-sized morsels. His approach to extracting flavour was to do his best to suck on everything which presented somewhat of a challenge when confronted with the custard tart, but when you are a baba and experimenting with different foods, anything goes (usually within a metre radius of the high chair)! While he was unable to give verbal feedback, the megawatt smile was a sure indication that the Michelin star had been well earned.

Three very satisfied customers rolled out (one literally) of Trinity in the late afternoon and wound their merry way back home, minus a few bob (well, a lot) but very thankful that the hand had been one of welcome as opposed to the hand I usually reserve for door knocking politicians!

OUT :)

Pic of the Week

OK it's just a wheel barrow - but decent composition in my mind :)