Lou has been savaged by one of the cats she’s looking after. She has a puncture wound in the middle of the back of her hand and it has swollen up like a balloon. “Isn’t she adorable,” she is saying about that very creature as I write.” Lou is a very forgiving person. Lucky me.
I’m here for the weekend, in the palatial flat where Lou is catsitting. It’s a huge relief to be out of London again, with nature immediately so available. Lou met me at Stanmer Park under the cedars. I just arrived there and collapsed into the grass. Dayjobbery has been pretty full on right now so a weekend actually feels like a weekend for a change. I’m in sync with the other folk…
Having had a lucrative few weeks, I thought nothing of getting stuck into a little bit of weekend capitalism. I bought some cider and apple juice – and some pumpkin soup – from the guy who juices up the fruit that would otherwise get chucked away. Three of anything for a tenner. He gets 33 tonnes of rejects and you’ll always get a free sample. I’m not sure if that’s 33 tonnes annually or every season, but he was very specific with the quantity. The cider is good and fresh. I’m having some as I write. The juice is unpasteurised and so quenching. I’ll neck that tomorrow as it doesn’t last long. Haven’t had the soup yet but it’ll be great I’m sure. I was distracted by fish today. When at the seaside… …
Round the back of Fatboy Slim’s pad there’s one of those fish shops that does the catch of the day. I got a couple of fresh mackerel and then inevitably got sucked into fishworld and came out with a bag full of scallops and razor clams. Back here in the palatial catflat I cooked up a storm. Panfried scallops with garlic and ginger, high heat, two minutes each side. Razor clams in a little tray to catch the juices. Put them in closed with lemon and olive oil and chili and garlic. Ten minutes at 200 and they’re open and spot on. Keep the juices to pour on them. Mackerel: gut it if they haven’t done it for you and if you’re squeamish cut the head off because the eyes go white and it’s creepy. Wrap it in foil with lemon and salt. We had no rosemary. 25 minutes at 200. Nom.
I feel well fed and well rested and it’s only Saturday. The attack cat has ousted Lou from her comfy chaise and it is now cleaning its arse and playing with Lou’s phone while Lou plans a yoga class on the little hard naughty chair. Cats are fuckers. I love them. But they get their own way. And they are adorable.
I’m gonna get back to the cat palace. It’s not often I get to sleep somewhere like this. I’m going to enjoy it while I can.
AlBarclay 