I was lying on the lounge this morning, watching the gradual build up of Storm Ciara through the back doors, listening to 5 Live Breakfast. The dogs, as usual, were lying all over me. We all felt safe and warm and dry as the wind grew and the rain started falling.
One of the main stories on 5 Live was about the English men’s rugby team beating Scotland in the Peanut Cup (or something…Peanut is probably not correct). It seems the game was nowhere near being a classic. In fact, the English team were lucky to scrape through. One commentator claimed that it wasn’t because England played badly it’s just that Scotland were much worse.
One of the England players was interviewed and he wasn’t happy about these comments on the team’s performance. He finished a mild tirade by calling these dissenters ‘sausages’.
The presenters in the studio cracked up at this. The word was repeated a number of times, mostly in reference to each other. It was silly but fun.
At the same time, Sarah Brett and Chris Warburton were asking listeners to text in progress reports on Storm Ciara as it progressed across the country. There were some horrific stories as well as the strangely humorous one about the trains not running between Seven Oaks and Orpington due to a trampoline on the line.
Is it just me or does that sound like the opening to a Monty Python sketch?
I have to admit I’ve never heard people being insulted by being called sausages. Obviously I repeated the word but in the manner of the ad that used to run here in the UK with the little dog running to the butchers loudly thinking ‘Sausages! Sausages!’ I decided to send them a text.
While not exactly true (Emma and Freya hadn’t stirred for ages) I thought it was mildly funny. When Sarah read it out, Chris started doing an excellent impression of the dog in the ad. They made it a lot funnier than I thought it warranted. I thank them for that.
Meanwhile, Ciara grew and grew until it was looking a bit apocalyptic outside. Or, as Sophie reckoned, a bit tropical given the banana tree in our back garden.
I thought it was a shame that the windmill wasn’t connected to our power supply because today it could have powered the whole house.
And so the day progressed with very little time spent outside. Freya managed to hold her bladder for almost the entire day. At one point I opened the back door for her. She poked her face out then backed up faster than I would have thought possible.
During a brief easing of the weather, I took them both out and, with great speed, they managed to empty their bladders before racing back inside.
I was really glad I did a double shop yesterday. There’s no way I’d want to be outside without a roof. Therefore, dinner was Persian roast chicken and it soon filled the house with delightful smells. It was even more delightful on the taste buds.
Afterwards, Mirinda enjoyed a second glass of purple (after last night’s first one) which had an added passionfruit because she claimed one is never enough.
The photo above looks a bit bland. I served it with a thin layer of single cream, sprinkled with cinnamon on top.
All round, quite a cosy day surrounded by cataclysmic weather.
