It has been a long time since we had a takeaway curry, in fact it has become so infrequent that last time we wanted one I walked to our local to find it had closed down at some unknown time since we were regulars. Maybe it was our fault? The last time we had a curry it wasn’t brilliant so I had a hunt through our collection of menus. Takeaway menus get pushed through letterboxes at an alarming rate and I keep every one because I am saving them for an art project (no details, I’m not having what is a brilliant idea stolen) when I have enough. A quick consultation through my huge pile of menus unearthed a curry place that fitted the two main criteria; nearby and not using Halal meat. Last night became a curry and lager night and on Mandi’s recommendation we watched My Cousin Vinny, a film that (unsurprisingly as I tend to need nudging to see any film) I hadn’t seen before. Mandi thought I would like it because I work in Crown Court. Aside from being a very funny film, I did find it interesting to observe how an American courtroom operates. Perhaps different parts of America have slightly differing procedures but the similarities were surprising in places; I hadn’t realised that people address the judge as ‘your honour’ over the Atlantic, or that the judge wears a black gown. Some courtroom traditions of etiquette seem very Olde English so it’s nice to see that it goes on in a country that sometimes takes the piss out of our funny little ways.

The main news that lifted me out of what has been a week of ups and downs (particularly our knackered mini-break) was the fixing of our boiler. Actually we had a brand new one fitted which kept me indoors for most of the day. This gave me the opportunity to sort out the music for this week’s podcast and catch up on the blog while at the same time adding photographs to the two ridiculous photo-blogs that I operate. I didn’t really want to work on a Saturday but if I couldn’t leave the house then I figured I might as well make myself useful. He was trusted in our empty house while Mandi went shopping and I took Jack to the park for a bit, I doubt very much he had time to do anything truly disgusting and he seemed too nice a person to have put our toothbrushes up his bum or tried on our underwear. What I hadn’t anticipated was that the man doing the work would have to turn the water off temporarily. It stands to reason that he would disconnect the gas but it hadn’t occurred to me that the water would go off; after all I am not a plumber. Unfortunately I found out about this detail when I tried to flush away the remains of last night’s curry.

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