Took the dog to the park. She needs walking every bloody day. Who knew?
On the way back we stopped at the butcher to collect the Christmas meat. It’s beef. The line wasn’t too bad. The turkeys were buff. The customers were resolutely middle class. Even the girl who served me, aged about 12, was posh. She wasn’t able to give good meat advice though, pretty sure she wasn’t an actual butcher.
This is the Meat. It’s a whole, lightly trimmed beef fillet. It was a few pennies short of £180. I thought that a lot. The boyfriend’s Italian father will be making very British Beef Wellington with some of it, and then some other deliciousness with the rest. He’s a good cook. The Italian father, I mean. This is not to cast aspersions on the boyfriend’s cooking, I should point out. He’s very good at things like risotto and coffee and pasta and muesli.
Anyway the dog was pretty miserable because there were no dog bones at the butcher’s this visit. She was also really bloody muddy from the park so I thought I’d improve her day by giving her a bath. Look how happy she is.
I might blog about chutney later – depends on how I get on with sourcing tomatoes.