nastybun

A while ago when I was house sitting for the bossman and the flower I went up to our favoured coffee joint, a place called Bertoni’s, for a nice cup of joe and some lunch. As often as we visit this place, it was the first time I’ve had lunch from there (other than when they had that special thing going on.. but that’s another story). The lunch was a ham and cheese toasted panini.. it was nothing special, but better than the ham and cheese toasted sandwich I had for lunch today. The bagel joint was closed unfortunately, so I tried a nearby cafe for a speculative lunch and coffee. I’ve had still worse, but I’d probably go elsewhere next time I’m wandering about in search of nurishment. This is all neither here nor there though, as this post isn’t about food. Continue if you will to the next paragraph, where my indeterminate rambling continues.

On leaving Bertoni’s with my fare and wandering down the hill towards my temporary living space, I was joined by a wandering dog; I believe a blue healer crossed with something. Possibly alsatian. He (I’m assuming the gender based on nothing more than a hunch) happened to be sniffing about a corner around which I turned, following the usual route one would take to my destination. He looked up and me, acknowleged my existance the way that dogs do when they’re out and about exploring new turf and we wandered down the hill. To the casual observer he would have appeared to be my dog.. as it was, he simply chose to tag along with me for the time being. He would trotted the footpath in front of me sniffing at this and that, looking back at me perodically to make sure I was still there. At one point I turned a corner behind him. I made no noise, but as soon as I reached the side street I was turning down, he looked back and saw me.. so he wandered back and continued on as before in front of me. We reached the dog park on the harbour and his exploration became a bit more wide spread as he had more space to investigate and several more dogs to check out. I was curious at this point as to how this would end. My destination was only across the park.. would I have to ask him to leave? Would he find someone else to hang out with in the park? I decided that I’d just keep walking and try not to encourage him. He had a collar on, so he obviously had a family somewhere and he seemed to know the area enough to indicate he could make his way back home. As it was I lost sight of him just before we ran out of park… he found a few dogs to hang out with over on that side and decided to go check them out. I arrived at my destination, ate my lunch and pondered the fate of my erstwhile companion. He must have made it back home, as there’s been no ‘lost dog’ posters matching his description but I find myself keeping an eye out for him when I’m wandering the ‘burb nowadays…

The wind cracked a bowl of mine today. Well, I choose to blame the wind anyway.. it was a bit of a rube goldberg thing really. While I was cooking my dinner, the wind gusted up enough to cause a pressure difference requiring me to pop my ears. This caused me to shove the window closed… unfortunately, the lock on it knocked a jar full of water (its contents having been soaking off it) off the sill, and it landed on the rim of the bowl that was in the sink awaiting my sumptuous noodley fare. At that point, the window pane escaped its channels.. but not for long. I don’t put up with that kind of disrespect. Alas, the bowl is cracked.. all was not lost however, my approximation of char kwey teow was deposited into a backup bowl I keep in case of emergencies such as these and from thence consumed… but it’s still a little irritating. My bowls are so old, they’re from a time when cheap crockery was still being made in Japan. I daren’t put them in the microwave for longer than 33 seconds.. I’m sure they’d not survive the experience. My mum found them in the house she bought some years ago that’s just finished being renovated.. so they were bequeathed to me upon the commencement of my cross-country jaunt. To go with the 13 bowls (now 11.. three normal size, 8 small deserty ones.. one didn’t survive frozen pasta sauce being prised from it ), there’s also some rather small plates (6), and a wonderful platter featuring cuts of meat around the edge and a stylised picture of a chef poking a raging bull with a large cooking fork. I call it my vegetarian platter. I should take a pictograph of it at some point, it’s really rather brilliant.

The correct response to the Irish greeting, ‘top of the morning to you’ is ‘and the rest of the day to yourself’.