Quite a high density week, but as per usual it’s a shame – especially for the historic ninetieth week – that I can’t remember anything interesting.
Some graffitist has written milk on several pieces of street furniture. I was going to do a funny tweet about how it must have been Mike Gapes.
Blah blah blah I did some bicycling. To see my da, and buy a long supply of sausages, and be impressed by the bicycle parking (including a handy repair station – some Allen keys tied to a post) at a new Co-op shop.
Later in the week I went to what I am calling a “destination shed” where I bought some other produce. Narrowly avoided a faceful of salt when a gritter went past – well, now I know what the lights of one look like in the dark.
Passed a number of rural pubs, most of which weren’t boarded up. At least one was advertising, in addition to normal food, a “Boris menu”, presumably consisting of items minimally satisfying the “substantial meal” criteria. Of course, people will splutter that Johnson didn’t invent the menu, any more than he invented bicycle hire or buses, but … nor was the “Woolton pie” of WW2 rationing really invented by Lord Woolton.
I ended the week having badly timed the making of a loaf of bread. Of course I should have left the dough to prove somewhere cool while I slept, but no, I stayed awake and pushed through until it was ready to go in and out of the oven. Actually, I’d been a bit impatient and it hadn’t risen to its full potential. But think what money I saved by using the electric oven during an off-peak electricity time.