Mushroom Day

What a very beautiful day it was today, despite last night's rain. Blue, blue skies.

It has made me feel so bright that I'm actually having difficulty remembering what the beginning of the week was like, and have just been looking back at my blog to figure out what's been happening. What the hell did I do on Monday? I must have been in a right funk That must have been the day I brought the PVC roofing sheet back on the train from the Wickes in Goodmayes. Oh yes, after posting the letter at Seven Kings, having earlier been looking at banks in Wanstead.

Anyhow, I zipped out in the early morning to look at these mushrooms, as mentioned before, and decided to leave the extraordinary specimens for the daytime walkers to view. Like flowers, mushrooms have their ornamental life. I reckoned these could last another day. And if nobody had picked them, then I would have them after dark.

So indeed I took one, after doing a night shoot. Tapped the spores along all the grassy areas on the way home. I am pragmatic after all. Allow a beautiful mushroom, like a mushroom, to be enjoyed by everyone for its ornamental value while it is in its prime. But then give Nature a helping hand, to compensate for all the abuse Man gives Her in a place like London, and in the Industrialized world. Took it home, discovered that I had dropped my film camera somewhere, and went all the way back to find it lying on the ground where I had used it. At home again, I examined my mushroom in detail to confirm its type, and indeed it was at its age limit, as proven by the fleshy part going soft and spongy, as Carluccio described. Tasted some of it raw, which was very nice. Broke half of it into chunks and tossed it in the frying pan with a bit of chicken fat and salt. After 2 to 3 minutes on low heat, it shrivelled up to maybe half the size and was giving off that gorgeous mushroom smell. Ate the chunks. GORGEOUS. I WANTED MORE. Thank you Andy, and Antonio Carluccio, for introducing me to a new food. It gets difficult to find simple good food these days. I am no fan of tescoasdasainsburymorrisonisation. Not all of us get to live like my hero, Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall, who was on TV tonight, or like Rick Stein.

In between, I spruced up a general version of my CV and took it down to the Theatre Royal Stratford East, with an interest in being a casual Box Office assistant. Although I did not feel encouraged by the two that were at the time manning the Box Office. Oh well. Stratford was generally bothering me, but probably because I am actually starting to act on my instincts instead of just feeling I must endure. To Morrisons, where there were no nuts in shells at all. There seems to be a general shortage this year in Brazil Nuts especially, because Tescos had none of them, not even in their Mixed Nuts bags.

On my bike ride home I hailed another cyclist who was towing a commercially-made bicycle trailer. I was amused by the device, not having seen one quite like it. Always a comfort to meet other people who are even more fanatical than I am in their opposition to being car sheep or society sheep.

And then at home, I had a nap attack, when Michael from the double-glazing company came knocking on the door again. He must like the coffee. He had the prescribed wood resin, tested it on some unfinished pine, and decided that it was a clear over-lacquer, and that a coloured stain was needed underneath it. Oh well, no further at a finished installation, but at least he saved me from lapsing back into double Circadian cycles.

So then I finished the wall preparation around my Cloakroom doorway. And then dropped off a little food present at S's for his birthday week.

So where am I again? Can we please have more sunny days like this in an English Winter? I think they do the business. Next job: hanging the damn door that I bought all the way back in June.