The steady march

I was just thinking about one of the original inspirations for my daily blog, which was Julie Powells' blog and cooking marathon following the entire French cookbook of Julia Child. Thinking of it because on some days, such as this one, it is a monumental effort to make the blog post at all, inspiration has left the building and all I want to do is retire to bed with a cup of tea and a sketch book. Imagine all this and following increasingly complex recipes too; I have to hand it to her. As I was leaving cashdayjob today someone asked me 'anything planned tonight?' in a general conversational way and I found myself chuckling as the above mentioned indulgence was as good and it got and if the truth be known, as good as it ever gets at the moment! We do manage the odd social occasion but I am a bit more of a luncher than a dinnerer; take the consumption of alcohol out of the equation and there is many a reason why early afternoon is a far better time to consume food and conversation. For one thing I no longer function in an articulate way after 6.30pm, and I have become a nest bird without even batting an eyelid. When I was first in Scotland one of its appealing characteristics was the opportunity to socialise (drink) at all hours, moving deftly from club to crazy all-night eaterie to early opener on Leith Walk; when my mum came to visit I would tuck her up in the B&B and head off in a taxi to hook up with some mates in a club or bar, leaving her puzzled as to my dreary state of mind in the morning. Had a few laughs to myself of late reading the Facebook posts of a grown up and reformed debaucher extrodinaire, who has in the last week mentioned the words 'gardening', 'gym', 'pizza and TV' and 'memory foam mattress (new)' more than I imagine ever in the time I was working with him. Endearing it is too, and reassuring that there are harder partying animals out there who have felt the lure of the soft slipper and the cosy chair. So strange, however, how it comes to us all despite all our earlier protestations; our 'hope I die before I get old' long forgotten, we spend our time finding reasons why we are not like our parents and huffing at the suggestion that we have ever been any other way. As every teenager thinks they have invented sex, music and angst, so we now pat ourselves on the back for discovering the joys of opting out, settling in for the night and thinking about home baking. Unless, of course, you are Iggy Pop, but even he has left the fold and made an insurance commercial; and Alice Cooper plays golf...??!

And to close a couple of Haiku I wrote one day last spring in Glasgow; they fit the mood..

Coffee take-away

Sitting in Sauchiehall Street;

Admiring churches

With her fruit trolley,

Old lady in Birkenstocks

Reminds me of me