Put the cockrel under a creel...

Because in theory it is Sunday. Some of the Medusa list is done. Some isn't. I slow roasted a leg of bushpig (the real thing, shot next door, not the Australian version - yes I DO know what that is) in a lot of red wine, sherry, herbs and black cherry juice. I served it with an unmentionable pasta :-). Very appropriate. The doggins got a huge helping, and Wednesday said it was just so delish, she had her feet up on the table when I was watching (yes, she's a bandit. And a thief. I still love her.) The kittties are being very clingy for independent minded beasties. I wish, desperately, that I could speak dog and cat and explain to the furkids that, far from abandoning them, we've moved heaven and earth and a good few bits between to be able to take them to the Island. Ah well. It is. And that is the way it must be. Our hearts go with them, always. That is why we have done this.

It's turned cold, damp and miserable, and the paint I have put on things is not drying... Also I am about 1/3 through the manuscript cupboard (tricky - do not throw out anything that may not exist on paper (sold) or only sold electronically.). I have roughly one and a half cubes of paper to go through... Yes, actually I do write a lot. Maybe too much.

Our visitors were sweet, and rather welcome by that stage... Told us they were envious of our adventure. Um. Right now it feels more like a runaway trainwreck.

Oh and B got stung on the cheek by a bee, as a parting gesture. Gee, thanks.

I went through my clothes and did manage to throw out a few things... I really am fery, fery, fery 'careful' about clothes. I hate throwing away something that has some use in it. It's a good thing I am not the vain kind - because I don't declare clothes 'dead' until any self-respecting scarecrow would turn up his nose at them.

B and I were sorting out wetsuits - she actually got into the custom-made one I bought her before Paddy was born - OK it took a wee bit of wiggling and some determined shoving and pulling - but my word, that's quite something. It'd take a shoe-horn to get me into my wedding suit. Must be all the muscle being married has put onto me... around the waist. ;-)

Going to pot

Francis just brought home to me that I normally cook in great big cast iron pots. I've spent 20 years feeding flocks of locusts... well my kids, who also devour everything green (and red, and all the other shades of edible), and that I am likely - at best to be kitchen-stuff-less for 3 months or more.

So I have designed this new, elegant hand-luggage travelware for the migrant and other fashionable labelistas. The ultra-lightweight Falkirk luggable comes in at (as you can see if you have better eyes that I have) a delicate 12kg on the old shark scale, with a comforting five litre capacity, in which you can put all the other essentials of international travel, like clean socks :-).

On another amusing note: one of the movers called to inform me in tones of dulcet horror that the ferry to Flinders only sails once a week, and, um that has to time its voyages for the high tides. Chuckle. I didn't have the heart to tell her the truckie would probably have to spend 8 hours talking to the fellow passengers... sheep :-).