Masterchef the Professionals

Dunno if anyone else has commented, but last night's Masterchef Professionals was easily the closest that's there's been. And the best. Three stunning chefs and Clare Hutchings at 22 was absolutely phenomenal for her age... Beautifully constructed programme series and genuinely heart-warming to see them have their group hugs. A really uplifting thing to watch and how happy I would be to pay money to eat their food. But Ash Mair really deserved to win; his food was consistently brilliant, but also a real gentleman in every sense of the word.

Sorry I've been so quiet, but I've been studying accountancy (which has been painful at 60+), so here's a picture of one of my poppies this year that bloomed continuously from May to November; the photo was taken in November. Seems and age ago in the current snow and wind.

More NHS rant

For some time, I've been ordering my repeat prescriptions 4 weeks before I need them. This is after the experience of having the supplier to the pharmacy change the tablet size resulting in a 3 week delay and lots of aggro with everyone. Initially, the PCT, blocked one of the items saying I was ordering the items early. I responded in writing with an official complaint, copies to surgery and pharmacy that this was because they couldn't get their act in gear and supply the required medicines in a human lifespan. Silence from the other end, missing item supplied.

Then the doctor decided he wanted to see me about the colonoscopy mentioned earlier, the report for which showed that there was, as predicted, nothing wrong. The prescription was shorted again. Again the note to patient was on the original receipt which I don't see. When I got in, I pointed out that they a) have my work and home phone numbers, b) have my email address and c) that I never see the b****y prescription because of the way the system works. He apologises, but then tells me it's good news and proceeds to read me the consultant's report. I point out that it says on it cc: and that I have already read it for myself and that being a graduate, I've actually managed to master the art of reading a letter, so why a) short my prescription and b) take my time and his to do this? Silence and a shuffling of papers.

The latest episode with my local surgery is to do once again with my repeat prescription. The prescription is collected by the pharmacy and dispensed by them ready for collection. I never see the prescription. I have a lot of medicines: 5 sets of tablets, 2 sets of inhalers, 2 sets of unguents and 'surgical hosiery' - the latter I make last as long as possible, whilst still effective.

The pharmacy, as usual are short an item that takes until my next visit to get. It's only when I get home and unpack the two bags and check that I find that I'm missing my asthma inhalers - the blue ones used to relieve an attack. No note, no nothing. I try to ring the pharmacy for five days to find out if there was a note on the thing. No reply. So I have to take a trip to see them. They can't find it, but: "Couldn't have been on the prescription." Now, as you know, this shorting has happened before, so I go into the surgery. "No reason not to have supplied according to your medical record here?". I fill out another request. I go home, I check online and check the history; the prescription is flagged "partially approved"". I call the surgery and ask to speak to my doctor; he rings back and says he'll write me a prescription. I point out that there is an obvious flaw in the system and that unless it is fixed, I will permanently get my prescriptions one short. He says he'll get it faxed to the pharmacy. I respond that that is not the point, that 3 weeks after the original request, a visit to the surgery, umpteen phone calls, two visits to the pharmacy, another phone call to/from him that the SYSTEM ISN'T WORKING. That because I have so little faith that's why I order early. That this is in fact taking them and me and the pharmacy more effort than me going into the surgery, seeing him once every two months, and hand-delivering the prescription and collecting the medicines. He says he'll get someone to look into it.

Not a happy bunny, so I call the practice manager; I point all this out and she admits this isn't the first time it's happened. I respond that if someone puts a flag on a computer record and doesn't remove it then it will go on for ever; that this flag is not in my medical record so it must be the admin person responsible for flagging the online record directly. I am assured that this will be resolved. We'll see in about 5 weeks time. It's not just the waste of my time that makes me angry, but also the waste of everyone else's time, all because the scrofulous, semi-literate, incompetent person dealing with their IT used a persistent and not a temporary flag.

Down-sizing

I found myself arguing about SF with a bunch of commenters; most people read SF for the ideas rather than the writing (although where E E 'Doc' Smith fits into that I don't know). I wrote my dissertation on the History of SF (how the hell did I get away with that?)... which meant I had to read everything written and boy, that lets you know how much rubbish does get published.

I lived near a second-hand bookstall from which I hoovered up all the sf; I ended up with 6,000 paperbacks and a divorce! There are very few authors who are totally irredeemable; witness Moorcock, whose slapdash writing, but pyrotechnic ideas finally ended up in the masterpiece Gloriana (which is stupendous).

Philip K Dick is very competent as a writer, but where he really scores is his ideas, which are frankly very dangerous. When I got to the end of Do Androids ... at 2 in the morning, I found myself wondering whether what I was looking at was real and short step on from that whether anything is real. So SF is the literature of ideas rather than literature per se and much more interesting because of it.

I am preparing to downsize (my home/accommodation/premises - choose your own) and have been weeding my collection down to bare essentials, all books to friends or charity shops - I cannot bear to sell the ones going:
C J Cherryh (The Chanur and Foreigner sequences)
David Brin - Sundiver onwards in the Uplift War sequence
Patrick O'Brian - the brilliant Jack Aubrey
Guy Gavriel Kay - The Fionavar Tapestry
LIndsay Davies - the Falco series
J R R Tolkien - The Lord of the Rings
Ian M Banks - The Culture series (I'd read these just for the ship names)

and that's it apart from my collection of historical atlases!

Theoden

Tomorrow will be, fingers crossed, a Lord of the Rings Day. Every two or three years I do my best to get all the chores out of the way to clear enough time to watch all three extended Lord of the Rings films one after the other. I've read the books about 30 times and I've seen the films nine times - tomorrow will be the tenth. Lots of smiles and tears, and plaudits to Peter Jackson who with his wife and Phillipa Boyens did a colossal job. In honour of this:


Theoden

Son foul slain by orcs
Hope dead with his only heir
Still for honour fought

I love haiku - reminds me a lot of the finnish and icelandic verse that I read in my teens and Tolkien studied.

Haiku like hope's frost
In the morning air lights bright
the wet spider's web

;¬) As a bit of light relief; I found this in a teaching video top-ranked under ehow; there is something very funny and clever about the following:

Haiku is easy,
But sometimes, they don't make sense.
Refrigerator

A little later ...

Time passes and recoils upon itself
We see things as they think they are
That think we are immortal in the bud

But I feel the knife of time that
Strikes my friends away and turns the rose to dust

How pleasant smell those blooms at dawn
That fall to ground dancing in the wind
As all the world passes into dusk.

Free fall

I was struck by an idea; I know, a vision of an old short- grey-haired old geezer with a metaphorical bottle that has bounced off his cranium. But this idea is not a new one (I suspect it's not new in any sense, but it certainly isn't new to me). And I revivify this idea in honour of the inspiration of its outward form...

It started such a long time ago; about the time when I was dumped for the first time by the very first love of my life. I could not understand how I had been so deceived! Was it deliberate, was I a trusting moron? Probably, but more interestingly this led me into searching for answers; this is a geek's search... I can cite a number of books in this search - the Parkers' the Compleat Astrologer, Stand Gooch's Total Man, Sagan's Cosmos, Lyall Watson's Supernature, Morris's the Naked Ape, Jung's Red Book, etc etc. Even Mein Kampf (and also the Iron Dream, the really disturbing and brilliant fantasy/sf denunciation by Norman Spinrad). This ouvre of the 20th century skitters around the edge of consciousness for me whenever I stop thinking superficially for a bit (not for too long, it hurts too much and you lose too many friends talking about this stuff).

There is a point between our innermost selves and the outer world where light shines through from the outside world into the interior illuminating the dim indistinct shapes within our subconscious minds - this light is what we call reason, but it it is nothing of the sort in truth; it is light shone through the prism of our conscious minds that is trying to impose some sort of order out of the chaos. That prism is a reticulum, if you like, of the past experiences which have shaped the way we put a gloss over the deep darknesses within ourselves that reflect the shadows of the world outside us - or is that the other way round? The truth is that we (the collective superegos to whom I'm talking at the moment) are merely guests (and even unwanted guests) in the biological engines which are our bodies.

But in spite of this, the visitation rights are worth it. I believe that it was Watson (or was it Gooch) that suggested that Angels were merely the light of the firing synapses of our conscious mind seen from our unconscious cerebellum. Fascinating stuff, because the connections between the cerebrum and the cerebellum represent a kind of biological Heath Robinson affair that barely functions in any real sense (and what was that light I saw under water in the Thames, going down for the third time - I jest not). Sleep is there so that the two can come to some kind of reconciliation and can continue functioning. But occasionally the prism that filters the light from the outside and the dark from the inside which gives that light shape and purpose meets and creates a pattern of beauty, emotion and light which is something of the inspired - sometimes of genius itself.

Amongst the angels for me are the improbable company of Bryan May, Brian Cox and Patrick Moore; for when it comes to light from distant places shining into the deep recesses of our minds, nothing can beat the wider and all-encompassing view of the cosmos which astronomy in all its forms gives us. And Patrick was 88 just a short while ago (4th March); I hope he will forgive me, but he now looks like a vastly corpulent Davros, but I hold him in the greatest respect. He inspired my enthusiasm for the wider universe and has sustained it for nearly 50 years. His Observer's Book of Astronomy led me into deep waters (studying, briefly, with a local astronomer, even to trying to grind my own speculum, which I'm sure my mother broke in order to stop me spending so much time doing it)... and then on to think about other things. Thank you Patrick. (My god, he's eaten someone!)

Pickled red cabbage

Basis is from the following: http://www.goodtoknow.co.uk/recipes/496731/pickled-red-cabbage

Ingredients

• 1kg (2¼lb) red cabbage, cored and finely sliced
• 2 red onions, peeled and finely sliced
• 1 bramley apple, peeled, cored and finely sliced*
• 4tbsp salt
• 2 x 568ml bottles distilled malt vinegar
• 1 cinnamon stick, lightly crushed
• 1tbsp cloves, lightly crushed
• 1tbsp coriander seeds
• 1tbsp ground coriander*
• 2 tbsp ground cumin*
• 1 tbsp chilli flakes*
• 6.5 level tbsp muscavado sugar

You'll also need: Sterilised jars with vinegar-proof lids - hard to know how many, but these are 2 x 750 ml and 1 x 500 ml jars

The items with asterisks against them are my additions.

Method

1. Place the finely sliced red cabbage and onion in a bowl and sprinkle over the salt. Mix well. Loosely cover the bowl and leave the vegetables overnight.
2. Put the finely sliced apples on a baking tray and sprinkle some lime juice and a some of the muscavado sugar over the apples
3. Wash the cabbage and onion in a colander under running cold water to rinse off salt. Drain well and pat dry with kitchen paper.
4. Put the cabbage and onion on the bottom shelf of the oven, the apples on the top shelf and put the oven on for 20 minutes on minimum, remove and let both cool right down.
5. our the vinegar into a pan, add the spices, and bring to the boil. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the granulated sugar. Leave the mixture to cool.
6. Pack the vegetables into cold, sterilised jars, pressing down well. Pour over vinegar, ensuring that each jar has some of the spices and that the vegetables are totally covered with vinegar.
7. Seal the jars with vinegar-proof lids, label and store in a cool, dark place for at least 2 weeks before using. It will keep for up to 3 months, stored in a cool, dark place. Keep jars in the fridge once opened.

Vinegar on the go with the spices in added the chilli flakes and sugar after removing from the heat once boiled.




Cabbage and apples having been dried out in the oven.


The finished product - at least 2 weeks.

This was a real shot in the dark; I had bought the red cabbage and apple to do braised cabbage and apple, but realised that it wouldn't go with anything I was going to cook (yep, I really plan my cooking week)! So as I had most of the ingredients needed I thought I'd give it a go; I had to buy the big jars and work out how to sterilise the jars - which gave rise to a fat, grey-haired balding guy roaming Tesco's trying to find Milton sterlising tabletsl I asked a young assistant who didn't know and roamed a bit mroe, but eventually got them. It has to be said, this is a lot of effort - the 30 minutes prep time the original says mat be true for someone who knows what they are doing, but it's more like a couple of hours for me spread over a weekend - and I've still got to clear some dark space for the jars. But it does smell good!

More on high street shops ...

Sigh. Well I decided to use what was left of my 'spare' time after the events in the other post from today, (I wanted to do Michelle's Punjabi Chole this weekend. But to do it justice I decided to get the spices and the spice grinder. Now, what is a spice grinder?

I have largely avoided getting one of these, but various blogs - especially Michelle's Food, Football and a Baby, have managed to convince me that I may not use it often, but for a decent result I need to cook off the whole spices and then grind them; I could use a mortar and pestle, but I know from past experience that black peppercorns in particular are an absolute pain to deal with - you may do most of them OK, but there's always one or two which elude you and leave a tooth-breaking bit in there. So an electric spice mill/grinder seems like a good plan; however, everyone says use a coffee grinder. I have one of these and adventurous as I am I like to keep mine for coffee... It cost me £30 and it is brilliant - I only ever wipe it out and never ever put it into water.

So I went looking in Curry's [ouch, just realised the horrible pun] (their response was sorry guv, we only sell these at a megastore - we're only a superstore: presumably when they get an even bigger store than a mega store they might call it a dinostore?), Next (their kitchen section occasionally has some good stuff); Comet, Sainsbury's Homebase, the little hardware place in the centre of Aylesbury (by this time I was prepared to settle for a hand-powered version), and finally Home Store and More. No-one could sell me a spice grinder or warrant the use of their equipment as being strong enough to deal with peppercorns and able to grind/mill the spices to a fine powder, the latter had an assistant who knew what she was talking about and said she used an attachment for her Kenwood food processor, but they didn't really have one which would cope with my spec. You may gather I did not try B&Q. Some tried to sell me herb grinders as being both; on being asked whether they'd take the kit back if the blades broke I was told that they wouldn't or that they couldn't guarantee to do so.

So, I've spent some considerable time on the internet as well and after following several specialist Asian shops to find they've sold out of their mills, Amazon came up with the Krups Twin Blade Coffee Mill, which I now have on order. The website has the big advantage in that the reviews actually have people who say they've used it for exactly waht I want to use it - I'll let you know how I get on.

The Home Store and More visit wasn't an entire disaster as I bought a pair of curtains (yellow) for the aforementioned purple room, retiring the purple and green flecked monsters that were there and very greatly increasing the amount of borrowed light on the landing (which has a terracotta accent wall and magnolia in general, as has the lounge and the stairwell). To give you an idea of the sort of colour scheme:

Why high street shops are dying out

High street shops are dying out; partly because they are normally in places difficult to get to in a car and as towns go greener, with more pedestrian areas, car parks a mile from the shops you want to go to, online competition being cheaper, so the reasons are fairly evident why greener means deader in many respects. Public transport here isn't bad, it's just not easy for someone who's legs ache and who has to avoid getting kicked, pushed or anything else which would damage the skin. But there's another reason, which is generally poor service, with a few exceptions. A spectacular example of this is: B&Q.

They have a horrible reputation, locally, but sometimes I've been tempted or forced into using them. I'm not a houseproud guy (although a lot of my male friends think I'm extraordinarily clean!), but occasionally I like to change the way a room looks - marginally most of the time. I'm happy with most of the house now, although the purple room still bugs me. (Purple because my ex insisted that it had to be that way; and then went out and bought a horrible electric streaky white and purple carpet. Yeuch.) Well, I've never been really happy with the lampshade at the top of the landing, as it's your typical cone-shape. And as you walk up the stairs, you get to see the lightbulb rather than the shade.

So when I saw a nice looking white shade made out of plastic which would conceal the bulb in B&Q's local giveaway pamphlet at under a tenner I thought - that's it. So I got into the car, gammy legs aching away, drive for 20 minutes, circle the car park until I can find a space where I can guarantee that nobody can park too close to my door (osteo=arthtritic knee) and hobbled my way in, up the stairs and after hours of wandering around find it; definitely the one. I hobble down the stairs, queue with aching knee until I get to the check out. Guess what, shows up at the original price. So I am not best pleased - I tell them it's less than half that price, so the weekend oick sends for some guy (who looked like a spiv) to do a price check - I reckon he's out the back having a cup of tea. He comes back and tells me that it's marked at the price on the shelf (and I know full well it isn't but my legs are giving out, the queue is a mile long and I will HIT this guy if I'm in front of his smirking face any longer).

Amazingly they have no copy of the bloody giveaway magazine, they have no access to the internet or their head office or their senior staff. I am so angry I have to leave. (If you're 6' 1" and 16 stone, giving someone a smack round the chops is only going to land you in a heap of trouble). They say if I come back with the giveaway then they will sell it to me at that price. I've already spent 1.25 hours, £1.20 on petrol getting this 'bargain', so doubling that is highly unattractive, but above is the picture of the object which is currently showing on their ****** website for £9.98. Goodbye B&Q; this is the last time you will ever yank my chain like this (try the time I bought some pvc corrugated sheeting needed another sheet, went back a week later and they told me they don't sell it and if they did, they don't any more)...

I won't recount the story of how my barber bought a bathroom suite where they delivered it with the cistern cracked and then refused to admit that one of their staff could possibly have done such a thing.... Sigh

Yay - Masterchef is back - 2011 starts 16th Feb

Just a very brief note to say that in case you haven't spotted it, Masterchef starts next Wednesday (16th Feb) BBC 1 - 9.00 - 10.00 pm UK time (GMT). It looks as though they are going to follow a similar pattern to last year, which is 2 x 1 hour Wednesday and Thursday but no 30 minute session on the Friday. There are 15 shows overall. This is a shame because I still think it worked better as 30 minutes every night. *sigh*

One odd thing is that there is someone on Facebook who has the following handle: Lisa Duong - Masterchef 2011 -being something of a Luddite as far as these social sites are concerned I'm not prepared to join Facebook to see what she says about it or whether she has anything to do with the upcoming series (lord - I have a mobile phone, but only switch it on if there's an emergency that's how anti-instant communication I am!) .




I find it hard to believe that there are many more hidden talents like last year's amazing final trio (and not forgetting the wonderful beehive hairdo and chutzpah of Stacey Stewart). And who will return from last year? Sadly, it looks like we're going to have to endure the same repetitive voiceovers from India Fisher. But I wonder where it's being staged? The trailer indicates something like a cross between a converted gymnasium and a quaker meeting house! And it's kitted out rather more like Iron Chef than the old Masterchef classroom (in City Uni, if my memory is correct). No speakers at the moment, so I have watched without sound, but a couple of things made me laugh - a young guy cooking in a white trilby! vo - "Trilby Fred is cooking a gaspacho soup with turnip crisps" .... (My, I can't wait for that episode). And someone flamethrowing what looked like a green turd (Masterchef doesn't get tougher than this!).

Addendum - borrowed some headphones to listen to the sound track of the trailer and it is very good; there is a kind of tongue-in-cheek element present which I hope goes through some of the programme. From the opening, 2001 Space Odyssey bit to the almost final dialogue: Toad "Let's go and find some cooks", Egg "Let's get fatter" there is an appealing element of humour. But yes, it is India Fisher again.

And more - Michelle, apparently the series is being shot in a converted aircraft hangar) (but shurely shome mishtake ed - should have been a converted barn...). And another link to the Masterchef site where more is revealed about the mechanics - one of which is perhaps weird or sensible - the first few rounds are 'auditions' (ye ghods - shades of X Factor etc) where they cook in the new prep kichens before finishing their dish in the 'Judges Room'. That could be sensible in the sense that everyone prepares stuff up til the last bit and then re-heats/does the final stuff in the other room when they're judged. I guess that Egg and Toad have had enough of cold food!

Service and boot-shaped objects!

Well, I'm so much behind the times that I've only just got onto this post - blame it on hospitals. I think there is something wonderful about Michelle Roux Jnr; he appears so fragile, so beaten by time and yet, so unbreakable. He is rightly revered as a god in the kitchen and he and his relatives deserve every plaudit, knighthood and honour that come their way. Elegant, passionate, inspirational, convincing, caring and so in love with giving someone a decent meal; what's not to applaud? And like all the family, amazingly, a sense of humour. But like a lot of the people in my office building, I switched on to watch this and was immediately filled with feelings of horror. I have dived in and out of a few minutes each episode and still my nerves are immediately shredded... Masterchef meets Day of the Teenage Zombies. I cannot but help feel that some of these young kids need more continuous care (and the occasional boot-shaped object up the arse) to help them survive. But you cannot help but feel the purpose is noble and hope they all (as one did) realise that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Meemalee commented on service very effectively as has MRJ himself. His comment was that excellent service can redeem a bad or mediocre meal, but that bad or mediocre service cannot be redeemed by an excellent meal. In the final analysis, if somebody really makes you annoyed then the enjoyment of food will become irrelevant. It's so important for restaurateurs to understand this. Speaking of that boot-shaped object, I was inevitably reminded of that when I dropped into a resto a few years back and asked for a table in a largely empty room "We will see whether there is a table available..." Now only the Queen and idiots use the plural subjective pronoun. And as a way of selling a table it doesn't work. I said to the guy "if that was meant to impress me then you have very signally failed in doing so; if I had the time I'd sort this out with the manager. Good day to you." And walked...

I've learned that if a meal or evening starts like that, don't waste your time - get out. Now. Some people (and this is not restricted to the English) feel that a spurious assumption of a kind of hoity-toity (and yes, I did love The Thin Blue Line), namby-pamby superiority makes the food more desirable. Whereas with me (and I supect most people) somebody getting between me and my food will make me angry. And eating like that is not an experience anyone enjoys. (Not even Hannibal Lector...)

The NHS and Doctor Octopus

So, the day before the procedure (see previous post) I start taking the Moviprep; what joy - no food and a 4 x 250 ml glasses of this foul fluid in an hour followed by 2 large glasses of something else over 2 hours and then bed; following morning repeat. Yeuch, yeuch, yeuch. It all adds to the gleeful anticipation. Await the ordered taxi - which for the first time with this company doesn't turn up... does not help the blood pressure, but I eventually just get to the hospital in time.

I make my way through the labyrinthine corridors and get to the unit reception, get changed and have the briefing... where they tell me that I have to have someone to sit with me etc for 24 hours after the procedure even if I have the sedative and not the GA. So I have a choice of going through this all over again, but with the added horror of an overnight stay in hospital and I've already seen an old skeletal guy (whom I nickname Skeletor - don't diss him - he might wake up) zonked out in what is euphemistically known as "recovery" or I can have the procedure without the benefit of any palliatives. I'm told that if there are complications it might be uncomfortable or slightly painful. Hah, sat in a non-existent plastic covering and a huge dressing gown surrounded by determinedly cheerful women, I spit on discomfort, I wave my private parts at discomfort (peculiarly easy at that point)...

Hmm. I am wheeled into the place of execution with a very attractive eastern European nurse obviously deciding to put me at my ease with "what do you do for a living..." when they're about to... I am congratulated on being a cool customer, which I am for the most part in these circumstances. Mr Khan is playing with his equipment, which irresistibly earns him the title of Doctor Octopus... Why worry, inshallah, all will be as it will be... But it doesn't help that I'm turned facing watching the high-res exploration through my innards on a 40" monitor. In an absolutely hilarious moment the beautiful Pole is asked for some jelly by Doc Oc.


But then there follows 20 minutes of increasing discomfort, physical manipulation with me being turned over, a bit like a spit-roasted turkey, and sometimes quite severe pain... even the nurses have fallen silent by the end; Doc Oc marvels at the sheer size of my internal landscape, which has swallowed the entirety of his equipment and they still hadn't got to the ileum... But it's a bit hard to be entirely dispassionate about this with 2 metres of tubing in you and the camera pressing, literally, into your diaphragm. And after all this there is, as predicted, no sign of any colitis (which is what quiescent means you dumb Doc Oc); so they decide to snip bits off on the way out to prove that all this has been worthwhile. Which doesn't hurt but does have some repercussions later. What you may not realise fully is that the combination of the Moviprep and the dilating influx of oxygen pumped in to provide space for the 'scope turns your nether regions into a chemical factory, with no polite way of getting rid of the gasses...

So, they get me out into the recovery room (Skeletor is still lying there after his encounter with Doc Oc) and let me use the loo, and ask me if I want to stay lying down or want a cup of tea; I ask if I can simply get changed and go. They are astonished at the speed of my recovery, but the honest truth is I know that there is half a canister of oxygen mixed with methane in me and I don't want to take hospital with me if there's a spark at the wrong time (and I want to sit on my own damned loo without someone knocking on the door to make sure I'm still alive).

I get home and eventually am OK enough to make something to eat. There follows a very uncomfortable night and day (I did go to work - I'm that sort of hero (idiot)) but I spend an awful lot of time sleeping) although you might not feel most of it, it is quite a fierce pummeling for your internal organs, one of which at least is still complaining 48 hours later. Besides being mildly amusing, I thought I'd recount this just in case you have to go through it. The pain is bearable, it's nothing like some of the other things I've suffered and I am peculiar in my internal landscape so for a normal sort of person you could quite easily do this without the aid of a sedative or general anaesthetic. For the most part the latter are intended to help the staff rather than you in that they are administered to stop you panicking. If can bear a moderate amount of pain then you will have no problem with this.

It is undignified, and what really gets to me was that I thought this was unnecessary and it bloody well was...

Illustration courtesy of the excellent Furious Fanboys

Dressing for the halls of the NHS

Ah well, time for my serial encounters with the NHS to resume. I got rather fed up with blogging about the NHS and my manifold health concerns. So I won't go into gruesome detail (in case you're munching some sarnies), but the latest version involves sedation and is a pain in the arse. Most of you will guess what that's about. I don't actually believe I need this procedure, but they have a little list and my name it has been missed - for about 7 years.

What this rant is about is the preparation for this wretched event. I can't eat anything for 24 hours beforehand (and I can't eat anything like wholemeal bread, or other fibre rich material, which is actually recommended for the condition I have, for 48 hours). I have to get taxis there and back again, because I'm not allowed to drive with the sedation, but I mustn't bring in any valuables (i.e. the means to call or pay the taxis). The comment that someone (a friend - all working or at the far end of the country; or family - only one - out in the sun in Trinidad) could ferry me in and keep me company, was met with hostility... Worst of all is trying to find a dressing gown to cover the inevitably skimpy and minute surgical gown; hospitals delight in giving their female patients massively huge ones and big, fat blokes like me, minute ones. So you need something to cover your, ahem, modesty.

Now I don't wear such things, so I had to get one. I only need it (I hope) for such things so I bought a cheap, one size fits all one from Tesco. Sigh. I'm an idiot. The damned thing is made of completely artificial fabric and I have always been a static magnet, added to which it comes down only as far as mid-thigh. So it's doubly no use. I decided to go looking for a shop that sells such things locally - only they don't exist. There was one such place, but that has now closed down and all that is left are places like Next, who don't like fat people like me (actually they don't care, they just don't stock anything in my size), so I have to buy what I need off the internet.

That sounds easy, only I've left it a bit late so have to pay for next day delivery; but I've had real problems finding somewhere that delivers in my peculiar circumstances.... the office address has a post code that covers three different roads and about 40 buildings, all with their own unit numbers and varied names which are displayed at above lorry cab height. You can guess that deliveries here, if they involve people who don't know the area, go back and forth with address queries. Which has just happened (2 x out for deliveries and then back again to the depot - god bless tracking). Added to all this I'm at work half of the day and at home the other half and no-one will allow you to specify a morning or afternoon slot. But I've finally found someone who will put the thing in a wheelie bin...

Now all I need to do is find out how I call a taxi without my valuable mobile phone when I need to return after the procedure. The consultant couldn't understand why I didn't want what I consider an entirely demeaning, unnecessary, ruddy inconvenient and uncomfortable procedure done.

Pork Fennel and Tomato Stew

One of the things I did over Christmas was have a celebratory Pastis or two and I also like using it in cooking ...

• 1lb pork loin - most of the fat removed and cut into 1/2" chunks
• 1/4 tsp cumin
• 1/4 tsp pepper
• 1/2 tsp paprika
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 medium onion chopped
• 1 medium sized carrot diced quite small
• 1 fennel bulb diced quite small
• 2 cloves of garlic finely chopped
• 1/4 pt of chicken stock
• 1 x 440 gmms cheap chopped tomatoes
• 1/2 tsp dried thyme
• 1/2 wine glass (ca 80 ml) pastis
• 2 squirts of coriander (or about 20 grammes chopped up)

Preparation:

1. Trim pork and cut into 1/2 inch cubes; sprinkle with half each of the salt and pepper. In a deep-sided frying pan, heat half of the olive oil over medium-high heat adding the paprika so that it can infuse into the oil; brown the pork, in batches and adding more oil if necessary. Transfer to casserole.
2. Add the remaining olive oil. Cook onion, carrots, fennel, garlic, and remaining salt and pepper over medium heat until softened and lightly golden, about 5 minutes. Add stock, scraping up brown bits from pan. Transfer to casserole. Now add the pastis and boil vigorously scraping any remaining bits up and add that to the casserole.
3. Add tomatoes and thyme to casserole. Cover and cook on low (GM2, which I believe is about 120 c) for about 2 hours or until pork is tender.
   
4. You can let it cool down and then reheat for an hour on GM4 and serve with boiled potatoes or some nice crusty fresh bread. But don't leave it too long.

Enjoy!

Just a quick health note on Pork, besides the various diseases associated with undercooked pork, there are a number of parasites that the poor beasties are occasionally subject to. In Britain there are some pretty stringent control programmes which have largely reduced/removed the prevalence of these, including porcine tapeworm. Trichinella worms can get transferred to human beings; but what you really, really need to know is that this is common in carnivorous game, so beware when eating wild boar, for example. But the reason for mentioning this is that I didn't know until recently that some people are hyper-allergic to the toxins that the dead worms leave behind; so if you know someone who gets unwell when they eat pork, then that's the reason...

More time, less time!

Just a quick post to say sorry I haven't blogged recently (or even commented much), but Ms MarmiteLover has rightly jogged my elbow. I haven't given up, but as might be deduced from some of last year's posts I don't do the Winter celebrations too well and hibernate. More health aggro abounds. The vast panoply of my ailments means that every time the surgery wants to meet some target or other for referral, I'm a sitting duck... so I get to have some exploratories on something which has been the least of my problems for the last ten years. Mumble, grumble....

The more time is the weird thing - I'm now part-time (25 hours a week, in practice more like 30), although today with what we've got on I was in at 7 and didn't get away until about 2 ... However, let me not complain too much - I may be knackered. but not half as much as I would be if I had had to work until 5.30. Although the money is missed a bit I can survive on what I now get...

One of the entirely personal and weird targets I set myself as soon as I went part-time was to try to win with all factions in Alpha Centauri. You may gather from that, that I am a games freak but not the bash them up and shoot them down kind - more into Civilization building (a game to which I've been addicted for many years). Anyway, I've just achieved that. The combination of trying to restrict the time at the machine and the game has rather nobbled the blog. But I will return! And I am still reading the blogs I follow (rotten shark, yeuch)...

So Happy New Year to you all and I wish you well.