There is an Urban legend which I would love to be true. The story goes that NASA, the American space agency, spent millions developing  pens that would write in space. I know, I know but think about it how would a normal ball point pen which relies on gravity for the ink to hit the paper work in space. So thus the problem presented to NASA.. and then the millions spent developing it. Ingenious right!!?? Well not so much as the Urban legend continues….. The Russians faced with the same problem came up with an amazing solution, a pencil!! This solution costs almost nothing! And the only fun they had with it was to choose the color of the pencils to be used.

Unfortunately this urban legend among-st thousands of others remains one that millions of us wish were true but aren’t. If you are interested in the correct story click on this link, it is equally as interesting as the legend itself.

http://mentalfloss.com/article/13103/russians-didnt-just-use-pencils-space

However having provided this so far pointless piece of information here’s where it starts to become relevant. It captures your imagination doesn’t it……… You want it to be true….. you want the solution the Russians came up with to be what actually happened. Be honest with yourself its only me and you here.. And that’s the point I am trying to make, in this world where the technical solution is always presented as the best because its innovative,  society makes us believe the person who came up with it is a God! A trend setter, someone to watch, someone we should be following on Facebook err Twitter erm what the hell is the other one and the one after that?????? And for that person ??well he revels in his superiority, his God like status in the world of fame that follows his every move.

But what has this all got to do with me and my life…..ouch!…. our lives ( yes I do have a wife, I know this because she just hit me for not mentioning her). It’s because I am a genius!!! Yup that’s me I had a problem and I came up with a solution that is well,I can only say just shy of Einstein’s theory of relativity! Are you intrigued?? I am, and I am writing this! It concerns… wait for it!…. Washing!

For a while now my other, erm, better half has been gently reminding me that we both live in the house and whilst I do an amazing job of making  mess, it would be nice if I helped out occasionally. I of course jumped at the chance to be helpful and like “Toad” from the book Wind in the Willows offered my services as the local washer woman, scratch that, Man!! After a few weeks of doing this I am of course an absolute success at it, Iwona has had to rewash a few things on a daily basis but those are just teething problems which she can iron out. Stuff that she has to live with I mean she did ask for help!

 

 

Anyway let me get on to my genius.. I have noticed that washing, whilst intriguing, is to be quite frank a little bit boring! So girls, and here’s where I need some marketing help, how do you get your man into being interested in doing it, well make it fun!! That’s the answer.. and I just so happen to know how to do this, and no you don’t have to show him parts of your anatomy…. What drives a man other than sex???? Yes, there is food and football/ rugby, the pub etc but what also makes him interested….. yes you have it,, cars!!! Building them driving them, sitting in them and revving the engine up, listening to the sweet exhaust note. We do also dream about them…..a lot! So the idea is we combine the drying process of cloths with cars!!! I know right you see genius!! And getting back to the whole Nasa thing totally doable and yup that’s right, simple! This idea is right up there with my other cool ideas of making a trailer into a padded cell for my children when they were little. Also the other one of funding my dream Aston Martin by selling one of the boys (they are still for sale if anyone is interested although in fairness they are  lot larger and smellier than when they were at 5 and if you do want one its most defiantly for keeps! ).

Of course I have floated this idea with Iwona, I had again to show her that she is living with true perfection. Her reaction was a little  subdued….. The fact is  that somehow her whites have miraculously turned pink in the washing machine, not quite sure how that happened to be honest but like I said teething problems….

 

You may not know this but a Brussel Sprout is probably the most uninteresting vegetable. There are those who love them (shame on you whoever you are!) and like me, those who couldn’t think of a fate worse than death if they were forced to eat them. In fact as a man, the only way to enjoy a Brussel sprout is the 1001 different ways  that you pass wind after having just come into close contact with a thought of eating one Brussel Sprout! This of course does not affect the female of the species as they, I am assured, do not pass wind.

The reason I bring this up? Well a few years ago it was discovered by an astute doctor that I have only one functioning kidney. The astute doctor in the emergency room at the time was trying to work out why I was so ill. The up shot of this joyous episode was a week or so in hospital with a tube up my, how can I put this politely, my manly attribute?! I must mention the removal of this offending tube was undertaken by two very attractive nurses and overseen by a very strange officially looking man who stood wincing  by the door, which he held open so passers-by could enjoy the spectacle.  I did not rise to the occasion so to speak. A fact which I am still ashamed of! Anyway I digress. The reason I bring this up is that on a recent trip to the consultant who is in charge of my kidney (obviously he hasn’t gotten hold of  it, its still inside me, he just looks after it) I have been told that I have to limit my diet to remove any possibility of consuming oxalates. Now oxalates occur quiet naturally in nature and are designed to pass through our systems to enable our waste  help grow other consumables. It is a bit more complicated than that, but I don’t have a degree in microbiological stuff so I  couldn’t understand a word I read up on the subject. I didn’t read all of the chapter but I did get two lines in. Which anyone who knows is the perfect amount to read should you want to be an arm chair expert in the field!  My wife however who is far more intelligent than me read it all and found four other researcher’s on the subject. She has written me a do’s and don’ts list. I have of course read what she has written, not the full twenty odd pages you understand, but she did a lot of work on it so I stuck it out for three lines. The most glaring of  which has stuck in my mind is that I can only eat Brussel sprouts! They contain almost no oxalates whatsoever! How amazing for me!! And for those who spend time in my company post err lunch!

So off I go in search of the Brussel Sprout mecca! After all having spent more than 20 years in the food industry, having spent most of that time cooking… cleaning,  screaming and of course crying, also occasionally getting thrown out of some of London’s finest restaurants, I should therefore be able to come up with some amazing recipes……  Shouldn’t I???

When Iwona jetted off to see her parents for a few days, the hard work began…  I can tell you it truly was hard work. There was a bit of Hubble Bubble Toil and a hell of a lot of trouble! The smells from the kitchen were amazing! Well not really but I have to build this up a bit don’t I? They smelled well Brussel Sprout-y. And after testing and tasting, my digestion or the result of my digestion smelled shall we say a bit ripe? Not so good in other words. Bum and George (our Dog and Cat) flat refused to sit near me and there are several species of plant that no longer grow around the outside of our bedroom window. Also I am contemplating contacting the American Military  to ascertain if what I have produced could be weaponised…?

The result?? I am sure you are asking if the resulting  are the recipes any good??? 1001 different tastes to try?? Well errr no. I have 4 which are edible and that I like. Should you like to know more then please PM me and I will be happy to share these with you. But what am I to do, I am sure those of you who are worried about my welfare are thinking erm well you probably aren’t worried about my welfare! But I am what am I to do??????? I mean Brussel sprouts for the rest of my days….. How am I going to cope, how can I put up with just them….. and even more importantly how am I ever going to be Romantic again with my other half!!!!!!!!!!?????!!!!

 

I had no choice I posed the question to my Oracle upon her return from seeing her Mum and Dad She asked me if I had read the pages she had written.

“ Of course” I replied. Thinking about the four lines I had read

“Well if you had” she told me, “you would have found the other pages contained an extensive list of veg, meat, fish, diary and loads of recipes that I found for you. “

“ I See” I replied………… You can currently fine be residing in the Dog house….

 

 

 

 

Christmas comes but once a year and it really is the only time we get to have off. Spending our days lazing around the house….But NO! This year it has been decreed that we go for a quick jaunt into Spain! Leaving home for Christmas does present some challenges one of which is George.

George, our long suffering cat, although I am not sure who suffers more him or us, spends his days lazing around the house, either on the sofa, in Bum’s basket, in the sink( yup I know) or quite a lot of the time, in amongst the dirty clothes basket. (I’ve smelt it and I wouldn’t!!) His nights are supposed to be filled with running, playing, catching mince and generally protecting the house. None of which he does. We live in a house around 250 years old. The walls are stone, but typically of a house built of this age the stone sandwiches earth. Yup that’s it, just earth. Strange you may think but surprisingly we are very warm in the winter and exceptionally cool in the summer with very little help from the heating and we don’t have air conditioning. Due to this tasty stone, earth sandwich, occasionally we may find a hole in the wall where mice can get in. George is supposed to deal with these pests. I have to say I do also put traps down, George doesn’t like to catch mice, he just likes to tell me when the traps need to be changed.

He is, so to speak, his own man err… pet err…..Cat! So when it came time to go for our Christmas Holidays we decided to take George to the lovely Trish who takes care of him whilst we are away. George doesn’t like to travel and if he doesn’t like travelling he absolutely despises the cat cage he has to travel in.

“when I took him to the vet last time with Bum I just let him roam around the car” Iwona said “Just don’t open the windows he will settle after a bit and he will be fine”. I was told words of wisdom? I think you are sensing my impending doom!!

I picked up George in his favourite blanket, he purred and looked at me. An angel In making. Placing him gently into the car I closed his door. I got in the car, George got out! And so our adventures began. He slunk back to the house an hour later, Iwona let him in, I carried on looking for him as because it was my fault he wondered off I was to be taught a lesson! A recaptured George was placed in the car by Iwona all the time reiterating not to open the windows. I set off, George meowed, scratched at the leather seats and generally caused a nuisance. Then a delightful odour came from the back seats. He had been sick. But it was ok, as he wandered over the door looking out of the window he opened it. George spent the rest of the trip incarcerated in his box meowing to high heaven.

On our travels we visited many beautiful towns of note. Córdoba and Seville were very pretty. I found a lovely barbers for a shave but when I suggested that Iwona went to buy a Flamenco dress whilst I was otherwise occupied, well suffice to say the unspeakable fuzz at the back of my head remained for another days attention. Shame I would have looked great…doing the flamenco!! Holey !

We had some interesting days driving around, visiting one more wonderful village after another. It took a while though as Iwona doesn’t like to use the in-built Sat Nav in the car preferring her method of looking at her phone map and licking her finger pointing it in the air and then telling me which way to go. An ingenious method! Perhaps?  although I am now an expert at doing a 64 point turn on a road just big enough for a cart whilst looking out on a beautiful vista and 200 foot drop!

Our New Years Eve was spent in Salamanca, a very pretty town with what can only be described as a truly wonderful Cathedral. Unfortunately we were attacked here. Now I consider myself to be a very manly man. 100 kilos of sinew and muscle err and some padding. In my youth and recently I have climbed mountains, sheer rock faces, practised in the martial arts, been in my fair share for scraps and fights. So when I say we were attacked I mean me. Let me describe the scene taking Bum for her evening constitutional, Iwona made the decision that we should skip along a darkened section on a dark path in a dark park. You get it right, it was DARK! Oh, and I was skipping. A sight to behold if I do say so myself. On rounding a corner following my beloved an assailant lay in wait. 100 kilos and err a bit of me collided with a most dangerous and dastardly park bench. The bastard! The damage was a bruised and blooded shin suffice to say it did get the better of me. I got my own back the following day though…….Bum peed on it!

Off we went to Burgos to pay our respects to El CID. Amazing old town again very beautiful. But El CID’s conversation is a little limited…I suppose that’s what it’s like when you have been dead for over a thousand years! Then onto San Sebastián for tapas on New Year’s Day.

And here I am sitting at home. Fire crackling in front of me, a glass of red in my hand, warmth and cheer all that Christmas is about. I dream of our trip. Lazy happy days past and the following year comes to mind …;…2019. I wonder what it will bring. I have made only one New Year’s resolution. To get Iwona to call me Lord Daniel. I think it fitting and appropriate to my standing in our household. I turned to her and asked:

“How do you feel about calling me Lord Daniel??”
All is quiet except for the gentle crackling from the fire.

“ what do you call someone who is married to a lord?” She says finally

“A lady” I reply.

“Mmmmmm what’s the name of someone above that??”

“ a princess?” I reply. “ do you want me to call you Princess??”

She considers this for a time. Looking at the fire, enjoying its warmth and I hope me next to her.

The following day is the 3rd of January, time to get things done. Off I go to pick up George from the cattery. On the way back he meows and complains and I think to myself not much has changed since last year. The Sun is still shinning; it’s still Winter; George still creates strange smells in the back on my car and I am still not called Lord Daniel. My New Year resolution much like  last years has fallen by the wayside

Upon returning home I am greeted by a smiling wife.

“Hello Princess!” She says……