Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Fascia fizz!
The acessible parts of the fascia boards on the garage and the extension are now finished. Something more than a year after I started on them. Amazing how little time one has once one is retired. Little bit tacky around the edges, not having been done for a long time, but I have great faith in Dulux Exterior Weathershield Gloss (Brilliant White). Hate to think what they put in it and what it might do to you if you snuff it or otherwise ingest it, but it does a very good job on holding dodgy woodwork together.
Further to yesterday's post I tried what should have been obvious and visited the Hampshire web site. It now seems reasonably clear that the Isle of Wight is very nearly a proper county, doing all the things that proper counties do except for police which it shares with Hampshire.
I have also learned that the Roman church takes a firm, sensible and enforceable line on thought crime. That is to say, it is not a crime. It is not even necessary to tell your confessor about it, although if you are posh you might choose to consult him about it. But once you tip over the line and do the deed, then you are 100% guilty and need urgent confession. Now while this is the sensible approach, I do fret a little about it. Suppose I spend months pondering about, dreaming about murdering my boss. This is rather unhealthy and stains one. But not a crime either to church or civil authorities. Suppose I even go as far as making plans and collecting the necessary equipment. According to my informant, this is still not a crime to the church authorities although I guess it might become one to the civil authorities. Especially if one is conspiring with a colleague who shares your dislike of your boss. Clearly food for much heat over strong brown ale here.
Food for thought takes me back to the island, where we have become instant experts on the purchase and consumption of crabs and lobsters.
Started off at the 'Boat House' at the bottom of Puckpool Hill. Beer a bit strong, something called 'Holy Joe', some kind of local confection, but drinkable. But the lobster starter was good at maybe £6. A few slices (cross wise) of a large lobster tail, tastefully arranged on a little bed of exotic lettuce and so forth. Maybe some of that brown vinegar stuff lurking at the bottom.
A few days later and wet and windy walk from Sandown, along the beach to the end of Shanklin. Lunch in a pub called the ‘Fisherman’s Cottage’. Crab salads – very nicely arranged on slightly pink glass plates. Very large portion of crab – white and yellow meat mixed – which I liked better than I expected. But I would still rather have white. If I want mixed, Shippams do it much cheaper. Not a bad deal at all for £9 or so. Plus another strong local beer with a funny name which I preferred to ‘Holy Joe’. We learn afterwards, walking back along the front, that crab salad of this sort is very much the local thing. All the eateries are at it.
Oven chips, not too good, but much geed up by the use of a pink sauce served with the crab. A fishy ketchup which hid much evil. Can see now why the Belgians go in for mayo on their chips. Small hot baguette, presumably fresh out of the freezer via the microwave. Again, not too good but edible.
The pub was decorated with, amongst other things, some photographs of what looked like floating and rigged three deckers (HMS Victory is such a thing, but no longer afloat). Didn’t know that they co-existed. But then I have no idea when photography kicked off.
Another few days and we are off, bright and early in the morning, to Captain Sam’s for lobsters. Two cooked lobsters, each about right for one, for £16. Served by cheerful young lady from up north somewhere. Brought them back to the refridgerator. Some time later, peeled the lobsters, not very neatly. The cottage kitchen knives are all of the serrated or toothy variety and they do not cut very cleanly. And the great architect in the sky seems to have made a bit of a mess with the teeth in the primary claws. All over the place, lots in places where you wouldn’t think that they would do much good at all. But the lobster itself, very good. Starting to get a taste for the things.
But the lobsters prompted an urge for the OED, abandoned back at Epsom. Can’t think how repugnant gets to mean what it does. How do we get there from pugnare, to fight? And then where does indefatiguable come from? What does the prefix ‘inde’ do?
On the day we went for a swim at Priory beach, went for lunch to a not very busy small cafe on the front where we got some very good crab salad sandwiches. £4 a pop. Crab meat with higher proportion of white than the earlier crab salad. Which I prefer. Two sandwiches filled one up good and proper. The cafe appeared to be being run by a couple of kids in their spare time and was presumably a hangover frome when this was a much busier beach – when Seaview pier was still up (something exceptional in its day, being a suspension pier. It was just one of two in the country).
For our posh meal of the holiday, to a place called the 'Priory Hotel', just above the beach of the same name. Extraordinary place; a clutch of quite old buildings on the site of what used to the the priory farm. Towering folly with posh antique clock from the US. Product of a lady from the US, nuts about heritage. Genuine French romanesque doors with tympanums (?) adorning two of the doors and the whole with elaborate carvings. They would presumably count as heritage piracy these days.
Pea soup made out of frozen rather than dried peas. Odd how much differance that makes. Lobsters – far better carved than I managed with our 2 for £16 - although vastely more expensive. Slightly bigger too. Came with a leaf salad with bits and some sort of brown goo. Very good. Pudding served on dinky glass plate, neatly contrasting with those the other courses were served on. They even managed some very decent bottled local beer, for consumption after we had had enough wine.
There was an absolutely spiffing smoking den with a whopping great lime tree. A small courtyard, nearly enclosed by old building. Warm and quiet. The lime tree was the most healthy speciman I remember seeing. And not a bad cigar from the giant Tesco, my usual brand having gone awol. Something called a Helix from Conneticutt. Didn’t have that odd flavour I associate with cigars from over the pond. Saltpetre or something. And by good fortune, the smoke attracted a red squirrel, which ran across the opening to the den. First time I have seen such a thing.
On our last evening, to Pete’s cafe at the far end of the Puckpool Park part of the esplanade. Licensed place doing snacks and light meals, licensed. Very cheerful place run by four or five young people. Quiet when we went in but doing a good trade on the barbecue by the time we left. Crab salad for me – very good, the proportion of white to yellow meat continuing to climb, only marred by failing to stop the balsamic vinegar underneath the salad. Maybe £9. Quiche for the BH. Very natty individual portion job. Followed by Bakewells. Not as good as Cheam but similar enough to suggest that the Cheam ones come off a van rather than out of his oven.
Further to yesterday's post I tried what should have been obvious and visited the Hampshire web site. It now seems reasonably clear that the Isle of Wight is very nearly a proper county, doing all the things that proper counties do except for police which it shares with Hampshire.
I have also learned that the Roman church takes a firm, sensible and enforceable line on thought crime. That is to say, it is not a crime. It is not even necessary to tell your confessor about it, although if you are posh you might choose to consult him about it. But once you tip over the line and do the deed, then you are 100% guilty and need urgent confession. Now while this is the sensible approach, I do fret a little about it. Suppose I spend months pondering about, dreaming about murdering my boss. This is rather unhealthy and stains one. But not a crime either to church or civil authorities. Suppose I even go as far as making plans and collecting the necessary equipment. According to my informant, this is still not a crime to the church authorities although I guess it might become one to the civil authorities. Especially if one is conspiring with a colleague who shares your dislike of your boss. Clearly food for much heat over strong brown ale here.
Food for thought takes me back to the island, where we have become instant experts on the purchase and consumption of crabs and lobsters.
Started off at the 'Boat House' at the bottom of Puckpool Hill. Beer a bit strong, something called 'Holy Joe', some kind of local confection, but drinkable. But the lobster starter was good at maybe £6. A few slices (cross wise) of a large lobster tail, tastefully arranged on a little bed of exotic lettuce and so forth. Maybe some of that brown vinegar stuff lurking at the bottom.
A few days later and wet and windy walk from Sandown, along the beach to the end of Shanklin. Lunch in a pub called the ‘Fisherman’s Cottage’. Crab salads – very nicely arranged on slightly pink glass plates. Very large portion of crab – white and yellow meat mixed – which I liked better than I expected. But I would still rather have white. If I want mixed, Shippams do it much cheaper. Not a bad deal at all for £9 or so. Plus another strong local beer with a funny name which I preferred to ‘Holy Joe’. We learn afterwards, walking back along the front, that crab salad of this sort is very much the local thing. All the eateries are at it.
Oven chips, not too good, but much geed up by the use of a pink sauce served with the crab. A fishy ketchup which hid much evil. Can see now why the Belgians go in for mayo on their chips. Small hot baguette, presumably fresh out of the freezer via the microwave. Again, not too good but edible.
The pub was decorated with, amongst other things, some photographs of what looked like floating and rigged three deckers (HMS Victory is such a thing, but no longer afloat). Didn’t know that they co-existed. But then I have no idea when photography kicked off.
Another few days and we are off, bright and early in the morning, to Captain Sam’s for lobsters. Two cooked lobsters, each about right for one, for £16. Served by cheerful young lady from up north somewhere. Brought them back to the refridgerator. Some time later, peeled the lobsters, not very neatly. The cottage kitchen knives are all of the serrated or toothy variety and they do not cut very cleanly. And the great architect in the sky seems to have made a bit of a mess with the teeth in the primary claws. All over the place, lots in places where you wouldn’t think that they would do much good at all. But the lobster itself, very good. Starting to get a taste for the things.
But the lobsters prompted an urge for the OED, abandoned back at Epsom. Can’t think how repugnant gets to mean what it does. How do we get there from pugnare, to fight? And then where does indefatiguable come from? What does the prefix ‘inde’ do?
On the day we went for a swim at Priory beach, went for lunch to a not very busy small cafe on the front where we got some very good crab salad sandwiches. £4 a pop. Crab meat with higher proportion of white than the earlier crab salad. Which I prefer. Two sandwiches filled one up good and proper. The cafe appeared to be being run by a couple of kids in their spare time and was presumably a hangover frome when this was a much busier beach – when Seaview pier was still up (something exceptional in its day, being a suspension pier. It was just one of two in the country).
For our posh meal of the holiday, to a place called the 'Priory Hotel', just above the beach of the same name. Extraordinary place; a clutch of quite old buildings on the site of what used to the the priory farm. Towering folly with posh antique clock from the US. Product of a lady from the US, nuts about heritage. Genuine French romanesque doors with tympanums (?) adorning two of the doors and the whole with elaborate carvings. They would presumably count as heritage piracy these days.
Pea soup made out of frozen rather than dried peas. Odd how much differance that makes. Lobsters – far better carved than I managed with our 2 for £16 - although vastely more expensive. Slightly bigger too. Came with a leaf salad with bits and some sort of brown goo. Very good. Pudding served on dinky glass plate, neatly contrasting with those the other courses were served on. They even managed some very decent bottled local beer, for consumption after we had had enough wine.
There was an absolutely spiffing smoking den with a whopping great lime tree. A small courtyard, nearly enclosed by old building. Warm and quiet. The lime tree was the most healthy speciman I remember seeing. And not a bad cigar from the giant Tesco, my usual brand having gone awol. Something called a Helix from Conneticutt. Didn’t have that odd flavour I associate with cigars from over the pond. Saltpetre or something. And by good fortune, the smoke attracted a red squirrel, which ran across the opening to the den. First time I have seen such a thing.
On our last evening, to Pete’s cafe at the far end of the Puckpool Park part of the esplanade. Licensed place doing snacks and light meals, licensed. Very cheerful place run by four or five young people. Quiet when we went in but doing a good trade on the barbecue by the time we left. Crab salad for me – very good, the proportion of white to yellow meat continuing to climb, only marred by failing to stop the balsamic vinegar underneath the salad. Maybe £9. Quiche for the BH. Very natty individual portion job. Followed by Bakewells. Not as good as Cheam but similar enough to suggest that the Cheam ones come off a van rather than out of his oven.
# posted by Jim @ 9:16 AM 
