Ahhh, snow. The best thing about it is how it deadens the sound of the world around you. Everything becomes so quiet. An acoustic illusion to be sure, but a lovely one.
When you're young, snow is also good because there is that possibility that school will be closed. It seems to me that we never lose that frisson of excitement at the thought of a day gratis. I can't wait to see if there's 15cm of snow, to venture no further than the 5 Bar Gate at Gable End, and then knowing I can play snowballs with the kids and retire inside afterwards to nothing more stressful than an open fire, a cup of tea and a biscuit.
Talking of biscuits, exciting news on the Frost*ie front with the announcement of Nick D'Virgilio as a once-in-a-lifetime stand in at the Frost gig in America in May. Frankly, it's almost enough to tempt me to hop on a plane. To America, of course.
On a more pemanent basis, a chap by the name of Alex Thomas is to fill the gaping hole left by TBE. He seems to have the chops, my goodness. Here is a pic...
There's a Chocolate Hob Nob is ever I saw one !!!In other biscuit related news, I have decided to have a biscuit League of Champions with my team at work. We started off last week with a packet of Green and Blacks Dark Chocolate covered Flapjacks. These met with only limited success, a symptom I think of casting the line too far into biscuit esoterica. After a swift reappraisal, I have decided that we will re-start this week on a somewhat more traditional basis. A chart will be kept at Gable End for your perusal.
A Cup of Coffee...
Once such a simple pursuit, requiring nothing more than a cup, boiling water, milk and a jar of Nescafe.
Now a minefield of social discourse with all the attendant risks of being snubbed by polite society.
I will admit to a version of stage fright when the ubiquitous coffee shops started appearing; so bad in fact I never went into one for fear of looking and sounding like a social leper, a coffee outcast. There is no denying that there are a strict set of rules and a lingua franca that must be learnt before one can be said to be truly comfortable, and indeed proficient, in the 21st Century art of ordering coffee.
It used to be a cafe's source of pride that it would serve you quickly with the minimum of fuss. Now, it seems perfectly acceptable to stand in line, being ignored by the Polish Barrista and then hassled to buy some not-very-authentic Italian accoutrements to go with your beverage. How these places keep going in the Crunch is beyond me.
Actually, here's one way... I have noticed an alarming trend at the takeaway end of the service, to whit, the replacement of actual milk with what I can only describe as "virtual" milk ("froth" as I believe it is correctly known). This is particularly upsetting (and fleecing) for those of us at the weedy Latte/Cappuccino end of the market. To date, I have been unable to summon up the courage to challenge this firstly because I still have residual fear of transcending some coffee rule I am unaware of, and secondly, cos the girl who serves me is really pretty and cute and I wouldn't like her to get upset.
More likely, I'll just grumble quietly to myself in the time honoured English way.
That said, I feel I must own up to something (well, other than fancying the girl at Caffe Nero) and that it is this... I have my own coffee machine at home. Not one of those Alan Partridge put-a- sachet-in-a-machine type thing, a proper, Italian made, coffee maker where the boiling water is pressurised and forced through a steel holder full of coffee out of which the Espresso dribbles. It also has a milk frother powered by real steam. A present upon moving to Gable End. The price... £350 to you Sir, not to mention the length of time it takes to make. All for the sake of a cup of coffee.
Of course, as it's Italian I expect bits to drop off it fairly soon.
Ah well.
Coming up on The View from Gable End:-
- The Biscuit League
- Diary of a Project (assuming I can make it interesting - a tall order to be frank)
- Genesis Box Set review
- More on the weather
- The joy of Spring through the medium of sinew and bone (ie 6 Nations Rugby)
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