Duttons for Buttons is the name of a shop in York that sells, you guessed it, buttons. What’s not to like? Also, and I’m going to have to tell you this because you’ll never guess it right, we’ve moved the salt pot to be next to the pepper that we keep in the mortar and pestle. I like to freshly grind my pepper in small quantities.
Now I can already hear the “uhuh Tref what’s such a big deal about that”. After all salt goes with pepper just like love and marriage and horse and carriage. Ish. Well the salt has always been up on the shelf next to the garlic pot. Not for any particular reason. It’s just always been there.
The salt pot is not yer typical pot with a hole in the top out of which pours salt when upended. Provided the salt isn’t too damp, obvs. Neither is it a grinder that is suitable for flakes or granules (?) of sea salt. No it’s a white pot with an open front that contains a little wooden scoop for spooning out quantities of salt as required. In our case currently Halen Môn or Anglesey Sea Salt.
I often don’t bother with the wooden scoop and simply resort to a finger and thumb as typically one doesn’t need much salt. It only gets used on tomatoes, chips, asparagus and barbecued corn on the cob. I do eat other foods and very rarely have chips at home. Usually when THG is away. With a bit of steak. Seignant.
So anyway I am now going to have to get used to the salt pot being in a different place. This won’t be as big an issue as blokes might think as it will be next to the pepper which as you already know pairs well with salt.
Breakfast this morning will be brunch. There is no rush. I will need the pepper but perhaps not the salt, fwiw. I have a sausage in mind together with a couple of bits of bacon, one unsmoked and one smoked, and a slice of sourdough toast. I noticed a bottle of Mr Vikki’s brown sauce in the fridge which will do nicely.
There we go then. And I’ve only just sat down. At the kitchen table which I didn’t mention earlier but quite relevant considering the nature of my earlier discourse.
My “problem” now is that being only eight thirty (ey em) it is too early to start preparing the brunch which won’t need much in the way of sorting. I’ll just stick the grill on and pop a slice of bread in the toaster. I used to always fry my bacon which I still consider to be the best mode of cooking but cleaning up afterwards is a little more hassle than grilling. Probably only a phase I’m going through.
THG has already polished off her two banana pancakes with maple syrup and home grown raspberries, made a tour of her garden empire and is now sitting in the snug with a freshly brewed cup of coffee. I have poured my tea.
This is all life as we know it. A start to a Sunday morning repeated all around the country, ish. Not everyone has a garden, likes banana pancakes and makes fresh coffee but ya knowworramean.
We have an exciting day ahead of us. The annual hog roast at the Burton Estate Club. The weather is, I believe, going to perk up a little just in time for the do. I did for a while yesterday afternoon don a jumper. My pink LONAP sweatshirt to be more precise. Should not be needed today although I will leave a fleece in the car just in case. THG has volunteered to drive which is good as it can be a very boozy afternoon and she doesn’t mind staying off the pop.
This morning I have more tidying up to do in the workshop. Having moved all my boxes of tools, screws, nails and miscellaneous bits of hardware onto the racking it is clear that it now needs properly sorting out. For example the storage boxes that only have a few nuts and bolts, miscellaneous nails and screws are going. The red one I’ve had since we first got married and is no longer suitable for use in a modern workshop. Storage tech has moved on. I want to be able to see what’s in a compartment without having to pull out the drawers.
The act of doing all this sorting in the workshop is very relaxing. It’s a bit like standing at a photocopier. Not done that for many years but I seem to remember it as being relaxing. The rhythmic whoosh of the copier. Nowadays I just scan something at my desk and print it from my computer screen. Fishing is the same.
There is also work to be done in the garage. Lots of stuff on the shelves that could well be chucked. Quite a few Christmas decs that we don’t need. I have no idea how we collected so many artificial trees. They never get used. I don’t even know if the lights work. Much of this has to be done under the watchful supervision of THG who is the ultimate arbiter of such issues and she goes to church on a Sunday which as you know is today so it will probs be a job for the morrow. Hooray for Bank Holidays.
I only recently realised that Monday was a public holiday as I had suggested to someone we could meet for lunch in town but they couldn’t make it. Happened with two different people. Now I know. Every Monday should be a holiday. And Tuesdays etc. When I worked full time I always thought we should celebrate every public holiday in Europe. The world even. And then chuck in a few saints days that might not be a holiday anywhere but should be. As it is I only work a three day month which is probably the same.
Right. Bacon and sausages don’t cook themselves yanow. Ciao bebes.