Hmmm, I suppose I can write on the couch while waiting for the thing to boil. It's not the first time I've done this, and I suppose to the moon set us all to over ripe at the same time. But still, I was looking forward to it, and now it's gonna be another trial. Shoulda started on Sunday, but I was distracted by shiny things, as always.
Forgot to mention we had a roast chicken the other day suffed with limes, chilli and mint from the garden. Himself is turning into Felicity Kendal, but the rosemary from the garden on the parmesan chips last night was so different from store bought. For one thing, you could smell the rosemary two rooms away, so fragant was it. And the home grown chillis? ZOMG, handle with care, they pack a punch. Oh and we have mint and parsely all over the place, the feral remains of my old herb garden attempt from ten years ago. But I don't mind. Feral mint by the garden path is kinda nice.
Tv last night? Maybe I was tired from speed marmalade chopping (and to be honest I'm amazed I have all my fingers going that fast with a knife that sharp when I was still groggy and seeing double from the allergy tablets, but somehow I did it. I'm also surprised the Yanks never used the old thousand paper cuts now chop up these lemons torture because I can tell you, I was ready to confess by the end of it. Ouch.
Heh, can you imagine Spooks doing it? Menancing some swarthy type with some A4 and half a lemon? well, maybe Harry could pull off the requisite menance. Did I mention how much I love Harry? And I'm not the only one.
Damn shame, because I did not watch Spooks last night, and maybe I should of, because I'm feeling very Harry deprived right now. I watched something else, and maybe a little of the magic is gone (or maybe a lot), and maybe I am really not digging this year's plotline, and maybe I'm over the brothers angsting over secrets and lies. Maybe I was just tired, but semi naked demon hunters just weren't working for me like they were the night before. Oh well.
If I want to watch a show about two brothers fighting and squabbling and hustling their way through the great American wilderness, getting themselves in and out of trouble and always quoting their Pappy, because what Pappy didn't know wasn't worth knowing, well, I'm gonna hafta to watch Maverick. Only it's just poor Jack carrying the can now, so he can't dump the crap stories on Roger Moore or Robert Colbert. It's rather back to the early episodes, then, as in if it's an episode where Maverick gets dunked in a river and ragged through a cactus patch it's starring Jack Kelly, whereas if it was about Maverick falling in love with a beautiful girl, I was starring James Garner, and don't think we didn't notice. Now poor Jack has to take the good with the bad, and last night's episode was bad, with the worst Southern accent ever attempted on American television outside of True Blood. Yeesh. I couldn't tell you the plot, it was one of those Hustle con, con and con again ones and I lost track, quite frankly. Oh well. Worse, there was no Doc, bar a telegram at the end begging Bart to join him in Denver. Needy, much? Heh.
Speaking of brothers on tv, there was an episode of The Saint called The Loving Brothers. Set cultural cringe shields to maximum, because it took me a while to work out where the bloody hell Simon was (having missed the caption at the start), and even then, if they were mining silver they'd be out near Broken Hill, so why were they flying people to Bundaburg? Never mind. See Australian actors shaming themselves and a few loose Kiwis taking the piss. Oh dear. Ranger Hammond, no! (Ed Deveraux and Ray Barrett were playing the brothers in question).
From Shameless to Skins, the shows I hope will improve
Young Guns: go for fun, not historical accuracy
Darth Vader battles Gandalf in new series from Heroes star Milo Ventimiglia
Scientists reveal face of the first European
NBC renews cop drama 'Southland'
Rock and Rolls
The roadshow must go on
Van Gogh's ear was cut off by friend Gauguin with sword