Thursday, 27 March 2008

Classy peddlers, wild boars and hard men

What we learned from tonight’s telly:
Going for Gold

Rebecca Romero won a world cycling gold medal by being truly amazing, one of the most poised and determined performance I’ve seen in while. She could well win a medal at the Olympics and if she does it will go with her silver (Friday update she actually got a Gold which makes her achievement truly amazing) for rowing from the last Olympics, which as you can see is pretty remarkable. She even managed to answer the usual gormless questions after the race.

Q. How did you cope with the pressures in the run up to the race?

A. she should have given "oh give us a break I’ve just pedalled my arse off and I'm bloody having problems breathing, wasn’t winning good enough for you, you blonde tosser".

Top stuff Rebecca.

It's all Yellow
Over on Channel 4: We had a Cook’s tour of Spain with Thommi Miers; winner of Master Chef a years or so ago. I didn’t get into her round Britain tour last year but this series is much better, it’s more straightforward. She still has her bit of rough Guy something following her around, his only job seems to be to make fires and dispatch the odd animal. I have feeling unless they are stepping out, Guy may not be in the next series.

The food was great, they were in Castille this week so we got beans, boar and of course Saffron. The saffron harvesting stuff was very good, I don’t mind the old “my new friends José and Maria” shtick it’s the best way to do cooking programmes. Top dishes today were some excellent saffron meatballs and wild boar stew.

I think I’ll pass on the aubergines in honey for breakfast. It is a puzzle Spain is a country with great ham, black pudding, eggs, bread, mushrooms, beans, coffee and oranges but can’t make a decent breakfast!

ps. The Saffron pickers all had incredible yellow fingers; they looked like chain smoking navies.
Next week will be even better as they hit Galicia and the North West, mines a goose barnacle!

Cajones Update:
Just back from the shop and have met the hardest bloke in South London. I was walking back minding my own business, when a guy stumbled past stopped, called me a “c**t” and threw some curls of kebab meat at me and stumbled off.

Now I’m not the world’s greatest fighter (in fact I’ve never had a proper fight as adult) but I wasn’t going to kick off as the bloke in question was only 3ft tall (a person of restricted growth is the modern term) and quite how he’s lived this long acting like that I don’t know, the cheeky get.

1 comment:

Clair said...

I know you're a lover, not a fighter, but still - I'd have LOVED to have seen that one!!