writing – Page 11 – EXCUSES AND HALF TRUTHS

The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 7

When it comes to Shrove Tuesday versus Ash Wednesday, you better believe I’m all about the pancakes. Straight no chaser classic 321 recipe (300g flour, 2 eggs, 100ml milk) but make sure you let it sit for an hour or so. Let your batter become the batter it always knew it could be. Melt a little butter in a thin wide pan, pour in your batter a ladleful at a time. A minute each way, flip as soon as the visible side looks dry. Use a spatula to turn it, for heaven’s sake, we’re grownups here, no one wants a pancake hat. That first slightly shonky one? Trust me, it’ll taste great. Chef’s treat. Just lemon and sugar on top, thanks, but go heavy.

Every other time in the year I make pancakes (and I make them a lot) it’s all about the puff-up from baking powder, the tang of yoghurt playing against bacon and maple syrup. If I’m feeling super-fancy, a few thin chipolatas. If I’m feeling healthy, a compote from one of them freezer bags of fruit. But on February 13th, I keep it old school.

And you know, as an expression of love pancakes served on a nice plate to your baby kicks flowers and chocs into the long grass. Well, that’s what TLC says, and I believe everything she tells me.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 6

Happy St. Scholastica Day! Let us never forget, the smallest actions can have the largest of consequences—in this case a row over the quality of the wine in an Oxford tavern led to three days of rioting, dozens dead and, eventually, the overweight influence we see of the university over the town. you never know where a sour goblet of sack could take you.

This week, Taylor, mascots and kids on keyboards. Who knows where we’ll be by the end of it all?

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 5

This chapter of The Swipe is dedicated to Christine Wickings, 80 years young yesterday. So much of what I am and do and how I act is thanks to her. If you hear a strange electrical crackle and low thrum of energy coming from the east, that will be Clan Wicko gathering in Essex to celebrate our matriarch, our queen. We know how to party hearty. Blessings be upon my lovely mum.

This week: fake beer, funny birds and sexy Star Trek. Let’s make it so!

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 4

This week we consider the art of whistling in pop, have thoughts and opinions on criticism and enable restraint. Lots to see and do this week. LET’S GET THINGS STARTED.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 3

This time yesterday I had four links ready for The Swipe and very little else. I thought I’d have to pull up something from the archive for you all to read. And then, as a quiet afternoon wore on, the links started appearing, in newsletters, through the newsfeeds. By the time House Of Games started, I had a full roster. Sometimes the universe will provide, even if it takes its bleedin’ time.

Of course, I could have just taken a week’s break. But the newsletter has been running as an unbroken chain since May 2020. You might not notice I hadn’t posted. But I would.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 2

I’m not sure why the January flood and cold snap always manages to take us by surprise. It’s been like this for the last ten years. Disappointingly mild Christmas, then we hit the New Year and the heavens fall while the mercury goes through the floor. To be fair, though, it’s all hit extra hard this year, and Berkshire has taken a kicking.

I don’t intend to minimise the distress of every home and business in Reading that’s been affected. I hope everyone gets the help they need with no unnecessary insurance company foolishness. Now is not the time to lowball the customer base, right? With that in mind I urge you, if you’re local and if you can, to get across the Playhatch roundabout and visit The Flowing Spring on the way to Henley. They’re open, despite the duck pond in the car park, and could really use the business.

Meanwhile, TLC and I are keeping warm and cosy, hitting the hibernation button hard. The Christmas oversupply of treats is going down slightly more quickly than planned but, hey, you gotta keep your strength up, right?

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, stay safe and dry and welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 1

Soggy New Year! 2024 has begun with All The Weather, storms rolling across Britain in a violent attempt to scour humanity off the land. My daily commute through the picturesque Thameside village of Sonning has tested the car’s amphibious capability to the limit. Your thoughts and prayers please for Sonning resident George Clooney, whose £12m mansion has several new unexpected swimming pools. Snow next week, apparently. Say what you like about climate change, it keeps things interesting. It gives TLC and I another excuse to hunker down and work on the huge backlog of snacks and treats left over from Christmas. Another slice of pannetone? Don’t mind if I do!

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to the 2024 volume of The Swipe.

The Excuses And Half Truths Annual Report 2023

And lo, it came to pass the days known as Betwixtmas fell upon the land. The people were filled with dolor and langour, picking listlessly at food prepared days before, gradually becoming as one with their sofas, eyes wide but unseeing as yet another rerun of that Only Fools And Horses Christmas special with the hilarious Batman bit unspools on the telly.

Woe and alas, even yr humble author was afflicted with the inability to recognise the passage of time, and so it was late in the week before he realised he should get his lazy arse off his armchair and grubby mitts out of the tin of Quality Street, lest his beloved Readership be deprived of the high quality bloggertainment on which they had become so dependent.

Greetings, then, from the library at Littlecote House in Berkshire, the venue for this year’s overview of Events What Has Happened. TLC and I have retreated to this bucolic country retreat to break up that Betwixtmas feeling and get some gentle relaxitude into our aching raddled corpuses. As Storm Gerrit rattles the 500 year-old rafters, we’re indulging in all the tea and cake we can cram into our feed holes, braving the weather after the rain passes to bimble in the surrounding woodlands.

Let us, while musing on the choice between fruit and cheese scone, Darjeeling or Orange Pekoe, take a moment to look back on 2023. I’m sure you have your memories, good and ill. Here are mine.

The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 44

It’s coming. You can smell it, all clove and cinnamon, goose fat and sage, pine and wood smoke. You can see it in every string of lights draped across house fronts, in the reflections of trimmed trees in shop windows. You can hear it, in the way tunes are made seasonal with the addition of sleigh bell samples, in the groan when an unsuspecting victim gets Whamageddoned (my Waterloo was early this year as a rickshaw span past blaring the song while we were looking at the deccoes in the fashion district round Bond and South Molton Streets—a literal drive-by).

However the season hits you, I hope it’s gentle and easy and warm and sweet. Something a little different next week, as I issue an Annual Report, which will include a couple of short stories from me to ease you through Betwixtmas. I always bang on about being a writer. Here comes the proof.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 43

X minus 9 and the countdown is obviously running. Thanks to a lucky confabulation of holiday time and shift days off I have two working days left this year. This feels slightly strange but very nice. I’d become used to being last man in on Christmas Eve, switching the site to standby, wandering the rooms as the pervasive hum of machinery dwindles to silence. It was a clear indication of a state change, that Santa was on his way. I won’t miss it this year, though. Let someone else have the honour. I have mince pies and sherry to consume. Oh, and a spot of final shopping today for my sins. If you see a lanky discombobulated bloke wandering round Reading with a lost and slightly panicky look on his face—that’ll be me, looking for a clue for presents. Your sympathy is noted and welcome.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.