Snow and shadows

Snow seems to do extraordinary things to humans -- cause projectile fights, close airports, that sort of thing, but I rather like it. There are new friends to play with:

old friends just back from hotter climes:

a refreshing lack of Saturday afternoon riffraff:

and ample opportinuty for absurdist signage.

Unexpected late birthday presents, or why it's good to have larger friends with lights in their feet!

Of extraordinary derailleurs, and seals caught drinking champagne from sheepskin slippers...

I'm sure there's a link somewhere!

Jam session

1kh overripe figs, 2kg overripe plums, 2kg of the oddly named "confisuc" -- sugar with citric acid and some sort of setting agent mixed in. The figs worked a treat but the plums seemed too liquid -- but after letting them reduce for a while they set to a texture somewhere between quince paste and sticky toffee. Spreading requires strong bread, a strong hand and a strong knife, though it's quite nice hacked into bite-sized bits and consumed on tangy goat's cheese.

The human is a closet glutton for chestnut jam though neither of us knows how it's made. If there aren't any ripe figs left next time we go to the market it will be time to experiment. All suggestions welcome!

Nuit blanche II: on the unexpectedly versatile nature of erstwhile garden installations

The improvised water tank formerly of West-Nor'-West Redfern was always an unpretentious affair, filling itself from a backed up drainpipe and washing machine hose arrangmeent when it rained, and keeping the garden alive for days at a time between summer showers.

Little did I imagine that its kind would go on to dominate both the entrance to the Buttes Chaumont and the Pont St-Louis! The future may well bring us luminous cities of plastic water cubes, but it's nice to know they haven't forgotten their roots -- allotments ahoy!

Fame precedes me!

As do vertical gardens attached to the front façade of menswear chains...

Death Star Canteen

From the benificent if occasionally nihilistic presence at Fumbling Darkly.
That's what you get for eating in most of the cafetarias I've encountered lately...

Indeed!

This thoughtful and heartwarming public service announcement was one of my highlights for a mid-week break in the mountains, though the humans seemed more impressed with the gallery the café was attached to. Magic Pudding indeed. Two days away and they were deep into hound withdrawal -- nothing for the humans but they couldn't stop themselves from bringing back gifts for him.

More food than I want to think about, a four-poster bed in the Shakespeare room (no less) and a commodiously triangular bath -- albeit served by a patent chrome soap dispenser above the sink requiring either sixty squirts of soap (rounded, for reasons that can only be divulged by the perpetrators, to the nearest twenty squirts) or dismantling with a 3mm allen key in order for the lids to be unscrewed.

Hills there may be in the mountains, but bringing one's bicycle at least ensures one has the appropriate tools!