|Mr Kipling makes exceedingly good imposters
||[Mar. 27th, 2011|11:55 am]
I've been making things today. In particular, I've been peeling and cooking apples.|
Triumph:When I'm peeling a big apple -- a Bramley, say, like today -- I do so in a spiral fashion, and I try to make the piece of peel as long as I can manage. Usually, the piece of peel breaks long before I'm half-way through the apple, and it's hard to generate a piece of peel longer than a couple of feet in length (half a metre, for young people and Europhiles). But today, I managed to get the entire peel off a modestly-sized apple in one piece, resulting in a strand of peel which, were it able to hang straight, would have been almost exactly as tall as me. Hurrah!
Disaster:The apple all peeled and half-way cooked, I went into the cellar head for some spices. The spices live in little jars in a plastic box on a shelf above the stairs down to the cellar. I retrieved one of the jars, and then watched as the plastic box and all the other jars dropped from the shelf and bounced down the stairs. Some of the little jars are broken, some of the intact jars have lids that have broken, and now there are assorted spices and bits of broken glass all the way down the cellar steps. Woe, woe and thrice woe. Smells lovely, though.
"Do you like Kipling?" -- "I don't know, I've never kippled".