It’s just about okay, if you don’t take it all too seriously
20th November 2016: Aviva Premiership Round 8: Leicester Tigers v Harlequins at Welford Road, kick-off 3.15pm: Result – Leicester Tigers 25 Harlequins 6.
Overnight yesterday it had rained with something like a vengeance and in the morning, as I discovered when I nipped across the road to collect my Sunday newspapers, it was also appreciably colder. With no plans to attend the match, I duly had my breakfast and set up my camp in front of the television in order to read the papers. This I did until noon, taking in Match of The Day, The Andrew Marr Show, Sunday Politics and Bargain Hunt.
I noted in The Sunday Times that Stuart Barnes was still trying to make the case that Alex Goode offered more in attack creativity than Harlequins’ Mike Brown, totally ignoring the fact that, on Saturday against Fiji at Twickenham, Goode had abjectly dropped the very first high ball that came his way and didn’t make a single tackle during the entire game – and that is not me making a wild accusation from a biased perspective, it was amongst the statistics supplied by said newspaper’s individual ‘marks out of 10’ for each player.
Eddie Jones trusts Mike Brown because he’s a rock in all aspects of defence and that’s what you want from a full back – all else is a bonus – plus his attitude is exemplary, at Quins we don’t call him ‘ASBO’ for nothing and he never gives less than his all. As far as I’m concerned, in contrast, Goode is all potential bonus. if I was England head coach my concern about picking him would always be ‘Is his defence going to hold up?’ and frankly that’s not something I’d want to be worrying about when picking a full back.
For lunch I partook of a lovely Bistro salad containing butter beans, feta cheese, baby tomatoes, sliced spring onions and small slices of authentic acorn-fed chorizo, all glazed with both balsamic vinegar and a sprinkling of Red Eye chilli, washed down by my share of a bottle of very acceptable and fruity after-tasting Prosecco. Interestingly, I love a bit of heat in my pizzas, indeed in food generally, and ten days ago a male friend of mine had not only shown me his collection of chilli-flavoured olive oil and different-strengthed chillis but demonstrated perfection by sprinkling a fleck or two of the Red Eyed variety on my lunch with his purpose-made (and bought) phallus-shaped chilli-grinder, a version of which I had also managed to buy on Saturday morning from my local, albeit rather expensive, kitchen-ware specialist shop.
With me committed to television sport in the daylight hours, my other half had opted to busy herself with housework and cooking, including the production of some cranberries-and-onion chutney that about this time of year she traditionally pours into little Kilner storage jars and then gives away as minor Christmas presents to friends and family.
Shortly after lunch had been cleared away there was a slightly awkward negotiation regarding the timing of her undertaking the hoovering. This was finally resolved by me agreeing to have my afternoon nap immediately – thereby missing the second half of the first Aviva Premiership match of the day (Sale Sharks v Saracens) on BT Sport2 – whilst she got on with it in the TV lounge, thus freeing me up to watch the mid-afternoon Quins game in peace.
That set schedule panned out to general satisfaction [well, leaving aside in its entirety the rugby match that local Quins fans were later obliged to watch on the box] and a busy afternoon followed. After rising from my bed I had my hair clipped, well what left of it that I have, and then assisted the chutney production by road-testing the latest batch on some of my new ‘favourite’ hard cheese, a distinct-tasting little number called Cantal Fermier that I had tried in my local Wholefoods store during our morning food shop.
For a while now I have quite a ‘thing’ about these fashionable rectangular boxes you can buy from all decent food stores of ‘Toasts For Cheese’ (containing about two dozen examples of little toasts containing a variety of fruits and spices) from the Fine Cheese Co of Bath. Yesterday for the task at hand I had selected in advance the variety containing ‘festive spiced fruits and pecans’ and I am able to report that – with a thin coating of salted butter, a sliver of Cantal Fermier, and a dash of Mrs Williams’ cranberries-and-onion chutney – these made for a perfect combination.
One word of warning, however: yesterday’s sample of chutney had not quite finished its supposedly-necessary 24 to 36 hours of ‘resting’ in a cool place when applied. Once you get used to its decidedly red colour (I’m addressing here those of my readers more familiar with the browner versions of chutney one normally sees on supermarket shelves) and take care not to apply too much – for this may over-power even the strongest-tasting of cheeses – the effect was truly delightful.
I’m afraid that, having rather over-indulged in that unexpected culinary concoction and then also downed nearly a complete malt loaf in the form of toasted slices laden with butter accompanying my pre-match cup of tea, I was unable to quite do justice to our evening meal.
This was a beautiful tenderloin of pork wrapped in streaky bacon, inside which a homemade lemon & sage stuffing had been placed, together with spinach and creamy mashed potato, served just as the BBC’s Strictly Come Dancing Results Show began. This is not the sort of programme that you would normally find me viewing on a Sunday evening, save for the fact I was fascinated to find out if the former Labour Party Shadow Chancellor Ed Balls had made it through to the next round after debuting the latest of his increasingly bizarre dance routines the previous evening.
All in all, a most acceptable Sunday of near-blissful domesticity.
[Elsewhere – in a dull match in cold and wet conditions – Quins sank 26-5 at Welford Road, courtesy of a total of 20 points with the boot from Tigers’ fly half Freddie Burns, after a first half in which they had the bulk of possession and ended only 9-6 down. So far this season Quins have contrived to lose six out of seven of their ‘away’ matches (five consecutive in the Premiership, with our only away win being against Ospreys in the Anglo-Welsh Cup on 11th November). Incongruously, of course – this being typical of the men in quartered-coloured shirts – the Stoop has in the meantime remained pretty much an impregnable fortress.]
