This morning I find myself thinking that I should have changed my clothes before cooking last night. I did pheasantburgers from the farmer's market ("Are these the ones that are too smashed up to sell whole then?" "Yes.") and they were fragrantly gamelicious, and this morning everything smells a bit tasty.
Speculation last night about the Blakes 7 remake down the pub got a little fevered. I've now received emails about it from so many different sources (three from my Dad!) that I'm thinking about dusting off the lurex quilted jacket and having a party to celebrate. We could watch the one where Avon and Vila shrink Orac down to ipad size and break a casino while Cally and Jenna have a cat fight in the basement. You remember, the one where Servelan wears red. I wonder how well it will translate into our post-millennial world? It seems to belong to a simpler time, when revolution was a state of life, problems were invariably insoluble and everyone you met was hostile, traitorous and overdressed. Nice shoes, though. To this day, when I see a pair of fancy shoes being worn in a quarry my mind goes back to Blakes 7.
