I haven’t done much of interest today.

I came back from the gym and walked the dogs. It was such a lovely sunny day but with a bitingly chilly breeze. May is the prettiest month, isn’t it?

I managed to do a decent singing practice as well. I’m working on the Duparc songs, L’Invitation au Voyage and Le Manoir de Rosemonde at the moment, which have complicated time signature changes and rhythms not to mention long phrases that should be done in one breath.

I wanted to cook ratatouille for supper tonight. Normally I use Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall‘s recipe for oven baked ratatouille but, as I discovered both last week and today, my oven dishes will not fit in my temporary oven so I was back to the Nigella (I think) method of ratatouille, pan-cooking the vegetables first individually then folding them together so the flavours just mingle at the end. I really can’t wait for my new kitchen.

At about 7 o clock, Raffles came into the kitchen and rootled around in the bag that holds the recycling ready for it to be sorted outside. He found an empty scone container and pushed it around for a while, me ignoring him. Seeing my lack of response he then picked it up and dropped it onto the floor with as resounding and deliberate a crash as it is possible to make with a small piece of cardboard on a lino floor. He then went and sat with his back to the washing machine as if to say, “Erm…mum. It’s my dinner time. See to it, will you?” Oscar would never have the temerity to do that.


Supper time reminder from Raffles.


Here’s is Hugh Fearnley’s Whittingstall’s recipe:

Oven-Roasted Ratatouille