So I was attempting - yet again - to construct a reasonable carbonara, mainly because I had cream in the fridge that needed to be used. And as I stirred it all together in the pot I thought, "this needs some more cheese". So I grabbed the powdered hard cheese I use, and shook it hard, and the top came off. Thankfully it was nearly empty anyway, since there was no hope of me getting rid of the excess cheese. So dinner was more like "tag'n'cheez" than carbonara, but still edible.
Rama Revealed was awesomely bad. Ok, so I've missed a book or two in the Rama collection (I can't recall if I read the second one or not, and I definitely missed the third), but this is terrible. It's like every page has some internal dialogue with a heavy-handed moral in it.
maybe men are from mars and women from venus, thought the ever-present, annoyingly didactic voice in Nicole's head.
I joke occasionally about how my "secret superpower" is learning the names of barstaff in ridiculously short periods of time. This isn't wholly accurate, but it's a useful shorthand. The truer version is that I seem to have the knack of very quickly establishing a rapport with serving staff of any sort. My less frequently mentioned and less useful superpower is making acquaintances (and sometimes friends) with people who are due to leave the country, usually with no intention of returning, and this more often than not combines with the rapport thing. So, for example, there's Colin, who on my first night in the local followed our motely crew to another bar to return a forgotten jumper, and at one point considered moving into a house with me, only to opt instead to leave town to join the Army; there's Jamie - the best barman ever - who went home to China a few years back; Graeme who decided that Oz was his thing; an assortment of eastern European barstaff who, ultimately, figured they'd stay in Ireland just long enough to get enough cash to settle comfortably back home; and most recently, coffee house guy - who, proving the truth of the name-vs-rapport comment above, I do not in fact know the name of - telling me shortly after I'd established myself as a regular that he's scoping out places outside Ireland to set up the rest of his life in.
This evening I figured I'd have a quiet Sunday beer or two, and noticed a new barmaid in the local (they've had a Staff Wanted sign out for most of the week). Before I left the bar she'd introduced herself, I'd noted an American accent (to myself), and so in keeping with past experience I fully expect her to have relocated back to the US in short order.