Perfect steak.

Simple pleasures available on Queens Rd. every day of the week, but especially Fridays when the steak munchies arrive. Two fillet’s from Scotland courtesy of Archer’s. I like to imagine these are from an animal that has been gazing out across some Loch in the highlands. I hope it led an easy life and has enjoyed every minute of it. I don’t actually eat a great deal of meat, but when I do, I’m picky and this is the best by a long way. Fresh English asparagus, Lincolnshire new potatoes and wild mushrooms from Marian and Joe Peasgood’s round off the fare for Friday night. Washed down by a smooth Rioja I had stashed away, it was a perfect meal and not a Nectar Point in sight.

Bin there, done that.

Much commotion outside this morning as the Bin Men try to negotiate their way around Clarendon Park. It is the same every week. One or two cars just a few inches out on their parking accuracy and the whole place shuts down. Here we have two culprits from the land of the rising sun narrowing the gap by a good couple of feet and the truck can’t get through. Given that all the streets around here and many other areas of the City comprise terraced houses built around the turn of the century, and most of them have similar width roads, would it not perhaps be worth using a fleet of smaller trucks? Too obvious I guess. Too much like the logic applied by a ten year old, not encumbered by committee thinking. What we need is those ones from the fifties with four gently curved roll up sides and an all up weight of about three tons. I had a Dinky Toy version as a lad. In the time I’ve taken to upload this pic and write this, he’s managed to reverse out and turn round. It’s taken 15 minutes. They may come back and do our road later in the day. Daft!