Tuesday 29 March 2011

To the Journey

Many of you may have guessed that I have failed miserably with the Ollie/Polly Project. For the writer of Julie/Julia there would always be something needful and comforting about cooking French cuisine. The same thing cannot be said about the Vojic Moser Caddis. Gluing tights over an embroidery hoop does not have the same appeal as gently simmering cream. So that's that.

As I write (I am typing up my notebook jottings) I am on a train to Edinburgh for work. Two mornings before I was in London and bombed it back to work in Leeds at five o'clock in the morning. At three o'clock the previous morning, I surveyed the Anarchist damage to Fortnum and Mason's by rickshaw. I felt slightly distatsteful at the time and began to sink into a mild depression (as only those in the public sector can) over the cutd. I soon retreated back into my bourgeois comfort zone and pondered just how delicious the potted shrimps at Fortnums are. To quote a misquote, "Let them eat cake!" I shan't though. I am sucessfully over a dress size smaller and I am enjoying getting thinner so much that I think I'll keep going for a bit.
Today, thanks to a forgotten train ticket I commuted between York and Leeds before catching the 9.37 to Edinburgh. On Friday I leave my house at six o'clock in the morning to get to Talgarth for work. I am then finally nestling myself in the Beacons for a little rest.
True rest, of course, means fishing. A winter's careful stressing and fretting is quickly unravelled by flashing a line through the wrinkles of a flowing stream. The particular stream in question is the Monnow. It has been carefully prescribed by a dear headmaster. So, as my mad travels end, a new season begins. I'll let you know how it goes.