Sunday, 24 January 2016

Sunday Summary | sparkly like Goldschlager

Hello to you!

This week I have mostly been ...


I just love the re-enforcement Gilbert gives us creative types. Makes us feel special.


30 Rock | What. The. Hell. Happened. To. This. Programme?! Lost direction, much?! I will always love Liz Lemon (because, identification), and I have a lot of time for Alec Baldwin's random deadpan responses, but what the actual heck has happened?!

That shark circled right back around, and the programme jumped it, big time. Shame.

Incidentally, if you have no idea what I mean when I use the expression 'Jump the Shark', I'll explain. I use it a lot with most of what I happen upon on Netflix, such is my questionable taste in on-demand viewing:

It's a truth universally acknowledged that the hit series Happy Days hammered the nail into its own coffin the day The Fonz jumped over a shark on water-skis. As witnessed above.

Thereafter, any show that is has passed its best with a significantly stoopid storyline (or just plain lack of genuine imagination or direction) has 'Jumped the Shark'.

Witness: series seven of House.

And whatever series of 30 Rock I'm now on.


So I've been getting my intellectual fix on with War and Peace, episode one.

{via here}
Uhm, excuse me, I'm confused.

... Who are all these people and why are the young men being sent to war before we've been given a chance to appreciate who they are ... ? And why do all the girls look identical?

That said, Paul Dano (above, left) as Pierre Bustachopov << (not actually his name but I'm so very confused right now) is actually brilliant. [Update: I've just watched episode two and his surname has to be Bazook-ov]

He's this guy, by the way, from Little Miss Sunshine:


Healing [my] Hands

All right, this may be the most unremarkable event in the history of events that QB has ever featured in the blog because:

and actually it still sort of is.

But if you've ever met me IRL (and chances are that you may have happened upon me IRL if I've persuaded you to read this, my weekly self-indulgent brain-dump ... oh, you lucky, lucky things) you'll know that for the majority of winter (and summer too), I'm 80% skin and 20% Elastoplast (other plaster brands are available) as my fingers just go, nope and split to smithereens.

{This is the least creepy
finger-related gif on Giphy ... | IKR?}
It's UGLY, y'all. I'm sure I've sent letters out smeared with blood before. I've approved layouts at work and left little smudges of DNA behind (so if anyone's cloned me without my knowing, now's the time to 'fess up).

Then, finally, when I was at the end of my tether one of my workmates suggested coating the handicles with a layer of Germolene (not Germoloids) and Neutrogena and wearing gloves overnight.


The manual digits are almost 80% better already! (Thanks, Dr Pritty!) I've been plaster-free for almost a week and this in the same week my toes froze in -6 temperatures at Clapham Junction.

We're onto a winner!

Or, not?

Deciding Not to Be Like Bill

That's one more social media bandwagon I'm not leaping on ... [Sorry. "onto which I'm not leaping."]

Foyle'd Again

On Wednesday, driven by a great need to Be around Books and more crucially Eat Cake and Put the World to Rights, I headed over to Foyles on Charing Cross Road and awaited the arrival of Clare, Katerina and Eloise.

Of course, me keeping slacker hours (well, not really, 8.30am-4.30pm working hours aren't exactly slack, just different), I was there much too early in spite of having got lost and taken a turning onto Oxford Street (Gah! Gah! Hellish!) rather than CXR.

Still, after a neat little segue via Chinatown:

 I arrived on the Hallowed Doorstep of Foyles, and carved out a little bit of time to buy me a book:

{because I missed the fillum}
then headed on up to the very popular and overcrowded cafe to seek out a little bit of space for ma ladies, initially opposite the standard beardy hipster with a Mac, reading Foucault.

I kid thee not.

{Whatever you say, hipster Jared Leto. Wait, is he rocking a ... man bun? Oh, Jared.
And it's "seriously". Did Brian Krakow teach you nothing?}
... I did have to eat my body weight in bread, oil and vinegar while I waited:

but it was worth it -- we had a lovely catch-up and the World was Duly Put to Rights, before we outstayed our welcome both in the cafe and downstairs, browsing the gorgeous stationery.

These, please?:

We missed Miss Evie, though; hope to catch up with you very soon.


So, on Saturday night I attempted this dish from an aforementioned Guardian Meals for One article.

Lemon sole in dill and sweet chilli sauce

It. Was. A. Bust. An Epic Fail.

Apparently lemon sole fillet and a whole lemon sole do not respond to cooking in the same way.

One falls apart like kitchen paper. The other probably doesn't so much.

Also, how a single tbsp of any condiment even when mixed together makes a sauce of any substance, I don't know; I cooked them into a syrup and the ingredients disintegrated into a gummy mess. (I place no blame at my own feet, of course ...)

And another thing.

Where on earth does one find sake or rice wine in a town where the McDonald's garners publicity for being a little bit ropey? Even Dave's Asian Supermarket let me down. 


So, today, I've fallen back on an ol' favourite: gammon joint in cola. I even dropped a few chunks of onion into the slow cooker for extra zhuzh. Sure it'll turn out all right. And if it doesn't, well, Co-op's open 'til eleven and they have Kashmiri butter chicken pizza.

Winner winner, Sunday dinner.

Pinterest Pin of the Week

Weekly Web Finds

Just a couple of completely unrelated but fabulous things for your delectation:

Well, that's almost all I have for now except to say I have News to Share but it'll have to wait until next week.

Because I'm a big tease.

Like those people who put up a vague crypto-status on Facebook, demand All the Attention, then Don't Want to Talk About It.

That aside, usual big-ups due to Charlie, to Jos, to Fern, to Natalie, to Georgie and to Ma QB for Support behind the Scenes this week, and why the heck am I Randomly Capitalising Things as if to give them Prominence and Significance? Who Knows?

Have good weeks, you gorgeous lot, and, goodnight, FOQ ... wherever you are.

qb xx

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