August 09

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Holiday: 17*

(*Warning this post contains images of food porn.)

 

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Tuesday saw me walk into Elm Park, and have a brief wander around the park before heading off to Hornchurch  (via the tube) to get some GF plain flour.  I should have taken the bus from the station, but it was a fine day and the walk into town is downhill. So I didn’t need to take the bus.  Besides it gave me a chance to meet this chap, Britain’s third youngest VC – awarded postumously after his death during the Battle of Jutland. Boy Cornwell as he is known, was the sole survivor of the HMS Chester and although clearly dying was found by medics still at his post: shards of steel in his chest, keeping his eye to his sights, and waiting for further orders. He was shipped home to Grimsby but died before his mother could reach his bedside. Like a lot of yong men, he had joined the forces without his father’s permission; although he had references from his headmaster. He was 16.

In Hornchurch it was a quick stop at Sainsburys and the sudden realisation I was going to have to walk back to the station with 1lb of flour; a loaf, some cheese ( for the bechamel sauce) and a few other necessaries.  I could have got the bus, and would have, if one had passed me when I was by a bus stop. I consoled myself with the thought the extra weight was good for the soul and cursed the gods who clearly wanted me to walk.

Back at the outlaws, I awaited the return of OH to make the bechamel sauce and having done so, we put the lasagne together. I’d cooked the meat half of the dish in the slow cooker: much less hastle than browning everything first. I did it this way because mother outlaw doesn’t have a large enough frying pan. But I will do it again because it worked: splendidly.  Also, there was a lot less tidying up. It was my first lasagne in ages – very few places do GF free. Ok so you have to blanch the pasta first, but hell it’s not that difficult. It was gorgeous and as you see it was big enough to get two more portions into the freezer.

Today, I am heading into Romford… to go to the bank. Yes I know how to live. But before I do that, I need to write the greenhouse scene. That’ll teach me for confidently predicting on FB that I’d reached part two of the latest book.