Week 98: Balmoral cairns
🥯 Made some bagels. My big mistake was not greasing the greaseproof paper they sat on to prove, so they went all misshapen when I tried to separate them from the paper to give them a hot bath. I won’t make that mistake again. Apart from the lumpen appearance, they were tasty and at least as chewy as they’re supposed to be. The only other mistake was not being arsed to brush them with egg to make them glossy and adhere the poppy seeds.
Better Call Saul. I watched a bit of it at least a year ago, but I must have been in a deep stupor. I’ve started from the beginning again, and, several episodes in, there are still snatches I remember. Very strange. (It’s not a problem, but I wonder if it’s possible to mark things as unwatched on the Netflix?)
Seeing Michael McKean’s character use a space blanket sparked a Wikipedia rabbit hole: space blankets → ? → ? → the Balmoral cairns. Who knew there were piles of stones commemorating some members of some family and the events in their lives? And King Edward, from off of the potatoes, had removed some stones commemorating his mother’s PA because he disliked the PA.
To the Mark Watson show “at” the Chorley theatre (Zoom). (Mark Watson from off of the pears cider advert.) He hadn’t done the thing of going to Chorley and streaming from an empty theatre, in fact he pooh-poohed the idea, which is fair enough, I think only Daniel Kitson did that.
We were encouraged to turn on our cameras and microphones, and it was nice to hear the sounds of strangers’ living rooms. I had made my walk a bit too long so had to listen on the phone, c and m muted, while striding purposefully and eventually hiring a bicycle. When I did get home, it’s a bit tricky to move a Zoom call to a larger device without the organisers thinking you’re sneakily trying to share your ticket with someone else, oh well.
Anyway, I heartily recommend that sort of thing.
(A few weeks ago) I saw a pair of hoodlums on a municipal picnic table playing chess. Thought about phoning the police, ha ha ha.
Which reminds me about some of the recent lawlessness I’ve seen from people with motor cars. A Vauxhall Corsa driven enthusiastically the wrong way down a one-way street before the driver realised and reversed back in the correct direction. A Vauxhall Vectra parked on ziggy-zaggy lines by a pelican crossing, the driver eating from a box of noodles. (The zigs and zags are painted there to stop cars parking there obscuring oncoming traffic’s view of the crossing.) I could have have taken pictures, memorised the number plates, tapped on the window of the noodle eater, but I’m too sensible enough to risk confrontation/am no a grass/possibly a coward.