Today has been very productive chez Adam and Pete. In a home that historically would have housed a working family, it’s amazing that two thirty-something homosexual men are bursting at the seams.
With an excess of everything, from clothes to kitchen equipment, our house is fit to bust. So we decided to have a clear out. We started with clothing. Now I’m completely honest, so understand I’m not being ott when i say my clothing obsession had taken itself to a ridiculous level. I threw out three pairs of jeans I had worn once per pair. I never wear black jeans, but found I had 3 pairs. Ridiculous. Hopefully the people who frequent Oxfam on Matilda Street will find a use for those clothes I don’t require. It’s quite funny, I looked at them all and struggled to get rid. A DKNY top I last wore at the V Festival 2005, why did I struggle to donate that? If I have not worn it in half a decade, it’s indicative of it lack of prominence in my life.
I also cleared out the kitchen cupboards. Noodles BBE 2009 binned. Herbs and spices organised. I’m not sure if I ever told you about the time I cleared out the cupboard and found out that I had been buying raisins like a mad man. 4 bags were hoarded and unopened. This time? Ground ginger and crushed chillis. It is time for me to start writing lists. I may do what my mum and nan did and stick a shopping list on the back of the cupboard door. Oh my heavens, listen to me. Attracted to such practical approaches. This Good Housekeeping lifestyle is rubbing off.
I went to Tesco today for a change. I found it an odd place to navigate. Even though I went round the meat aisle, I struggled to find lamb. It was nestled in the middle with similar coloured labels to those other meats. Was bizarre. Also I struggled to find anything baking related. I missed Waitrose. But my loot from Tesco would have cost me ten times what I spent at Waitrose, although the experience would have been so much more pleasant.
Today all I have baked is a loaf. But tomorrow will be a better baking day. First and foremost I must bake biscuits. It’s the big biscuit exchange between myself and Amy, and possibly MC if she overcomes the trauma of her minor flood vs Italian meringue incident. I’m envious of her Italian meringue success. My rather limp macarons have put me right off. Perhaps tomorrow is the time to brave it again.
Also tomorrow is the dress fitting for my bridesmaid’s dress. Or read that as suit from Moss Bros. Which it in fact is. Good job I’m at my fattest. Although I can just about fit into my 30″ waist jeans, but only just. Pre-Mykonos fitting would have put me in a position where I would have needed to crash diet, I got quite skinny. I am struggling to tap into that same motivation.
I still have a lemon and blueberry cheesecake on the go. I ate two slices today. More to go. I will blog the recipe in time, but am ironing out some creases, or indeed cracks, in the recipe. Perhaps the answer is to bake it in a water bath. I’ll let you know!
I’m making blueberry jam as well tomorrow. Such larks.
MC posed a very interesting question to me the other day. When did this descent into domesticity occur, and why so suddenly? It’s a good question. When did I decide that a good night out would be better replaced with a nice bit of telly, an early night followed by an early morning with a cup of coffee, radio 2 and my kenwood chef? Why do I like to get my chores out the way by 10am so I can sit and watch a bit of Ina? ( Loved it today- comfort food for Jeffrey-mussels in white wine and mac and blue cheese)
I have no idea why this change has taken over me. Not a clue when I became less young and embraced being that bit older. It kind of just happened to me. Like age enveloped me. All my tastes have grown more comfort-based. I’m less likely to buy tat from Topman, more likely to but a lambswool sweater from Gap or M & S. I very rarely know every song played in a club these days. Thank heavens for Shazam. I get backache if I spend too many nights not sleeping in my bed. I am officially an old man before my time. Yet, friends, I have no desire to be different. No desire to be any more than I am.
When I hear that the London set are going from gallery opening, to opening night at the theatre, from restaurant to networking do, from cocktails, to late night shopping, am I jealous? Nope. I’m at home, blogging in front of Holby City. Drinking Ribena whilst texting Catherine or Anne. Going through my Sky planner looking at what episodes of Lidia’s Italy or The Good Cook I have taped to rewatch.
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to turn this blog into a constant wittering about how I’m turning middle aged. I know I keep going on. But I’m starting to accept it, my domestic life. And I’m starting to get it, the secret that age teaches you. It’s actually better being older. You have more money. You have more choices. And life is generally that bit better. I am fitter than ever before. I am more contented. I am better clothed. I am generally happier. Of course there are days I count down to retirement, but not often. Instead, I’m just letting life take me where I am headed. And somehow I know I’m going to be eating well every step of the way.
Right, that’s enough deep and meaningful crap for one night. In Tesco today I heard a girl about 13 say to her dad “can you do nothing right, I said I wanted Discos not fucking Skips”. And her Dad apologised. My Dad would have rightly leathered me. That anyone gets away with that surprises me and angers me. Her dad should instil a bit more respect in that child. A cow in the making. Or in fact already made.
Right, that’s me done for the evening. Morning run I reckon tomorrow. Burn off these fajitas. Fabulous guacamole added to it.
2 ripe avocados
1 red chilli
1 green chilli
1/2 red onion
Juice of 1 lime
1 tsp maldon sea salt
Mash the avocado with the lime juice. Add the seeded chillis. You want a bit of heat, but nothing too horrendous. Add the salt and mix well. Add the red onion for crunch. Season with some chopped coriander.
On that note folks, I’m off. Sleep tight readers. Blog later folks x
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