What a day, what a meal

It’s a warm day so I got up, really early, don’t laugh, about 7.30am. Did my usual thing, medicine, shower, dressed. Then, coffee and some toasted germagrain, smeared with beetroot hummus and half an avocado. I know, get him. Then I sat down and tuned in, got Cab Calloway going on the stereo and, coffee in hand, entered the blogosphere, the Reader and found, therein, AngloSwiss’s Good Morning (always brings a smile) and Diary of a PorterGirl’s latest ruminations on James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake. From a smile to a rib aching paroxysm of mirth.

Just the way to start the day. Now, it’s Wednesday, so that’s a double red letter day for me. First, there’s Signs of the Time, ＃4 and, happily, I was covered, having done a quick sweep (as quick as a 60 year old with a walking stick and an iPhone) of the neighbourhood, yesterday and second, Wednesday means Writers’ Quote Wednesday Writer’s Challenge, (just flows lightly off the tongue, that one) and for me, that means another episode in the Starman saga. Ha, y’see what I did there? Saga, got a Daily Prompt in, too. I’m on fire.

Next up was something I’ve had on my mind since I read a post by thelittlelai, https://jauntingandmusing.com/2016/04/22/tears-are-also-the-voice-communication-and-everyone-understands/ that touched on the pain of growing up and discovering the world of adult life. So I posted a short story I wrote a few years ago, Commandoes in the Dunes that, I suppose, tries to tackle that very problem from a young boy’s point of view.

Now, I haven’t got round to Starman, yet, but that will come, a little later. The next thing I wanted to post was a stirring and powerful performance by the Palestinian poet, Rafeef Ziadah that was performed in Ireland’s National Theatre last Sunday, as part of the Dublin International Literature Festival and recorded, for posterity, by my good friend and award winning film maker, Terry McMahon.

All that brought me up to lunchtime, although, in the interval, I took a short walk into the city centre to visit the bank, buy a shirt for a wedding and then some bread and other essentials, before walking home. I didn’t dally. I could’ve stopped in a few watering holes to wet my whistle, so to speak but therein lie dangers and, most likely, dragons, too.

No, I was a good boy and got myself home and fixed lunch and oh boy, what a lunch. I was watching tv chef, Rick Stein the other night and he was on a Long Weekend in Bologna. During the show he made a dish that left me drooling. It was pasta with a sausage sauce. I know, I know, it sounds awful but when you call it ragu salsiccia, it sounds so much better.

The ingredients are simple, you need one, proper, Italian sausage (Stein used local pork sausage stuffing and I don’t think it could’ve been half as good as mine), half a spoon of crushed fennel seeds, chilli flakes/fresh chilli (I used fresh chilli), fresh rosemary, a stick of celery and half an onion, both finely chopped, a glass of white wine, some chicken stock, some cream and finally, some parmigiana reggiana. And here’s how it turned out.