Messy-lingual Gaz

I was lying on Freya’s sun lounger this evening, reading the latest Sharpe book (number nine) and counting my blessings. ‘Blessings’ isn’t a word I generally use because the religious connotations of the word tend to make me shy away, however, it’s more or less what I mean.

As I looked out over our wonderful garden and listened to Mirinda strum her guitar, sometimes singing along, it was as if there was nothing wrong with the world.

The biggest blessing though arrived at about 7:30pm.

On our way back from Frensham the other day we noticed that Heaven’s Kitchen was starting its home delivery service. It was a restaurant (that used to be Anderson’s) we visited a few years ago with Denise, Jenny and Bob and enjoyed the steak. In fact, they have been voted the best steak house in Surrey by Trip Advisor.

Since Lockdown began I have cooked non-stop and Mirinda (the loving wife she is) suggested that perhaps I could have tonight off, particularly after the new normal Saturday morning brunch. (I re-christened it Prunch today because I suggested that 11:45 was nearer lunch than breakfast. )

And what a delicious, delightful and welcome treat it was.

The thing is, we never have steak so, ordering and eating food from a steakhouse is never going to compete with Chez Gaz. That’s not me being arrogant. Mirinda often says that she feels there’s little point in eating food from elsewhere if the food at Chez Gaz is better.

Mine was a melt-in-the-mouth fillet and Mirinda had the rib eye. Both beautiful and well washed down with a Chateau Beaumont 2003 haut-medoc. Actually, when Mirinda ordered the food the guy asked if we needed wine. She smiled: Wine, we do not need.

Possibly the second best thing about ordering food from Heaven’s Kitchen is the lack of washing up. Well, apart from plates, cutlery and glasses. Even with those, it only took me about 15 minutes. Truly a night off for me.

According to Mirinda, Neighbour Dave said they’d ordered from the Giggling Squid and we’ve noticed a lot of people at the chippie in Downing Street. I guess a lot of home cooks are enjoying the freedom of takeaway.

Away from the Food of the Day, I handed Mirinda her coffee this morning and realised I’d announced it in a combination of words that weren’t, strictly speaking, generally used together.

The thing is, I tend to mix up my languages sometimes. Generally I’ll say something simple like “here’s your Americano coffee with cream” but in three different languages. This morning I called this multi-lingual but Mirinda corrected (rightly so) by saying I’m actually messy-lingual.

This I find delightful. Messy-lingual Gaz is a name I shall cherish for as long as I remember it.

Not such a blessing is the news of a massive heathland fire at Thursley this afternoon. It burned something like 50 hectares and was still going at 9pm. I had commented earlier that there’d been a lot of sirens today. Having heard the news of the fire, I realised why.

I don’t now how it started though I suspect it was possibly from one of those awful English throwaway barbecues that people discard before they’re properly extinguished. One good thing, however, is that since we’ve been living here, there’s been big, devastating heathland fires at both Hankley and Frensham and now you’d never know it. Hopefully Thursley will return, good as new.

Happier, less crispy times
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