Sweet potato and goats cheese mash

Chance dictated that my partner on last week’s first-aid course was someone that I got on with quite well. The physical intimacy of touching each other from head to toe each morning – to practice checking a casualty for injuries – was beyond that with which our nascent acquaintance ought to have been comfortable, particularly as my partner was a young woman my own age, Marianne. There wasn’t any romantic attraction between us, but I thought that we’d make good friends. After the course ended, most of us students took the same tram home. Marianne and I got off at the same stop, but we didn’t exchange contact details, we just said goodbye. I regretted it immediately, but didn’t do anything about it.

I’d arranged to go for a walk with Clare this morning, but I found myself awake long before I thought she might stir, so I decided to do two walks, one without Clare, and one with her. I set off on one of my standard routes - down Palatine Road, along the Mersey, and around the lake at Chorlton Water Park, listening to “Black Holes and Revelations” as I left the house, NWA and Rage Against the Machine along the back end of the river, and switching to something more jangly as I arrived at the lake, “Dear Catastrophe Waitress.” It was beautiful out - a clear, bright morning.




There was a pair of young ladies walking ahead of me on the path that I’d not really noticed. As I moved to overtake them, one turned and said, “Can I give you this?” It was Marianne.

“Hello! Sure, what is it?”
“It’s a leaflet. We’re Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

Jehovah’s Witnesses? The associations I immediately make when I hear that phrase aren’t positive – knocking on other people’s doors uninvited, not celebrating Christmas, something about refusing blood transfusions – but I think I did quite well at hiding my gut feelings and maintaining a smile. We chatted a little longer, and exchanged surnames – or rather I gave mine up to her – so that we could get in touch through the internal email system at work. Then I bounded off.

Fear crept over me, founded in my own ignorance. I’m not religious; in fact I’m slightly wary of those who are. Could I be a friend of someone whose values are so massively different to my own? I’m being presumptuous - being a Jehovah’s Witness is a particularly involved approach to religious practice, but I should judge people on their merits, not on my prejudices about their beliefs, shouldn’t I? I ought to be more concerned that Marianne reads the Times and doesn’t like the Guardian.

Of course, I don’t have her surname, so I can’t look her up on the internal email system. We’ll have to see what happens next.

I met Thom and Ed in the Vic for the Liverpool derby, with their friends Ozzie, Sam, Ali and a handful of others. After the game, Thom invited me to his house for Sunday dinner. This is what we had.
-----
Roast chicken, in bacon
Roast potatoes
Sweet potato, mashed and creamed with goat’s cheese
Roast butternut squash, with cinnamon, five spice and star anise
Wilted spinach, with garlic and onion
Steamed green beans, with chopped tomato

Rhubarb, apple, prune, apricot, walnut and pecan crumble, with custard.
-----

I made the crumble.




These two jokers were there.

The Dazzler suffers

Man Utd Star Darren Fletcher Knocked Out By Toilet Door

Mar 10 2008 Exclusive by Keith Mcleod

FOOTBALL star Darren Fletcher was left unconscious and bleeding when a toilet door fell on his head. The Scotland midfielder was revived in the Old Trafford dressing room after he starred in Manchester United's 1-0 Champions League win over Lyon.

As boss Sir Alex Ferguson was being interviewed yards away, Darren, 24, was being treated by club medics. He needed stitches in his gaping head gash. A club insider said: "It happened half an hour after the end of the match. It looked very, very nasty. I saw blood pouring out and the medical staff had to treat him there and then.
I know he got stitches. He looked pretty dazed and pretty shocked. You don't expect a door to just fall on you."

United reached the quarter finals with a 2-1 aggregate win.

The source said: "The dressing room was relaxed and happy after the match - it was a case of job done. It seems that there was something seriously wrong with the toilet door. I don't know if fittings had come loose or what - but when Darren went to open the door, it came away and clobbered him. It was a nasty wound but it could have been worse. The other players were looking about scratching their heads in disbelief but at least medical staff were right there on the spot."

Fletcher's mishap is the latest in a series of bizarre incidents around the Old Trafford dressing rooms.

In February 2003, David Beckham suffered a head graze after a flying boot hit him full on the face. It is believed the boot was kicked by an angry Fergie. In October 2004, there were reports of flying pizza following a bad-tempered match with Arsenal.

Other strange football injuries include Chelsea keeper Dave Beasant who hurt his foot after he let a salad cream bottle slip from his grasp. Leeds star David Batty hurt his ankle after a toddler drove over it on a tricycle. Midfielder Darren Barnard of Barnsley damaged knee ligaments when he slipped in a puddle of puppy urine. And Dundee striker Derek Lyle had to miss Saturday's 2-0 Scottish Cup defeat by Queen of the South after he fell through a coffee table and cut his stomach.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Daily Record article.

via the Fiver.

Anticipation has a habit to set you up...

Things I look forward to: (or have looked forward to, if they've already happened)

The release of The Blair Years
Dinner
The release of Pro Evo 2008
Emails
Fridays
Post
New Artctic Monkeys material
Having a knee that works properly
Facebook
Dim Sum
Results
Glastonbury
The Fiver
Christmas
Summer
Goals!
The first pint settling

Going postal...

...is the last thing on my mind, because my passport and my Smiths T-shirt arrived today. And I'm not in the Fiver either. More importantly, I'm not in the Fiver getting dissed.

Dear Santa, I want this staple remover, yours, Dave



From the brilliant Dark Roasted Blend.