Gevrey Chamberlin Vieilles Vignes 2003

Here we have the Gevrey Chamberlin Vieilles Vignes 2003 a burgundy with such immense charisma and class, it should really be sporting a cravat and monocle. Instead, I draped it with these kitteh (OK, it's very hard not to feature them!) I actively avoid French wine, having had a lot of crap over the years and essentially having no idea what's good or bad. This at least has given me a very good starting point to explore further. We enjoyed it while watching 'Fantastic Four - Rise of the Silver Surfer' a mindless piece of pap which fortunately did nothing to blunt the wine's fulsome flavour. Apparently posh vineyards are now producing half-bottles of all their major brands in order to lure us into purchasing the larger amount. This is a stroke of genius and will be the downfall of us all.

B

Beach babies

'The ocean doesn't want me today/but I'll be back tomorrow to play.' So sang the ever jaunty Tom Waits on the uplifting happy-fest that is Bone machine. It's a line which always springs to mind when I'm by the sea. I don't like it much, the ocean. I have a deep seated fear of it, having nearly drowned twice, and like so many other things on the planet (door handles, ovens, bicycles, most inanimate objects with sharp edges) I have a nagging suspicion it's out to get me. I do like to sleep by it though. I find the rush and pull of waves on a shore immensely soporific and would love to own a house near it (just so I can keep an eye on it y'know). Children seem not to suffer from this fear, or at least they're more exhilarated by it in that roller coaster way, rather than viewing it as the cold implacable killer I know it to be. They'll learn, mark my worms.

Oh yes, as for Warres Quinta da Cavadinha 1978, this stuff is liquid sex. This is the first time I've had a genuine vintage port and thanks to the handy link above, I now realize we should have taken our time with it, rather than slopping it about from a plastic jug with joyful abandon. No matter, it was delicious, with none of that lingering ethanol quality you so often get with fortified wines. I will attempt to seek out something similar and try to hang on to it for longer than ten minutes.

B

Project Pickering

It was clear from the headline that this was not a town to be trifled with. I thort perhaps my purchase of a sleek, matt black pair of wellies from B n' Q would allow me to blend seamlessly in with the locals, but no one appeared to be wearing them at all and I soon got the feeling I'd be joining santa in a brutal back street deflation from an irate Pickerite. We'd done the town sq. twice in the space of minutes and realized we were wasting our time and the only answer was to return to our cozy trio of cottages for more Olympic boozing.

Indonesian night passed by in an inebriated fugue. London night was ours so required a degree of sobriety, but only 0.01 of a degree. Cypriat night also featured karaoke, so no hope for abstinence there. Christmas day? Puhleeese. Murder Mystery night? You must be joking, especially when you're playing an American Indian called Lowawatha, with an alcoholic grandmother. Perhaps what made us open the wineandbeerandbrandyandwhiskyandbaileysand tequila every night was the fact that we'd all chipped in to a seemingly bottomless kitty and felt obliged to drink our share no matter how ghastly we felt. An SAS assault course one afternoon over some spongy yet sturdy terrain (laughingly described as a public walk) gave us a momentary respite from the bottle, but it was short lived.

This though, is the nature of Christmas. The time of fandamily and good cheer, of which we had in abundance. The entire operation was put together with military precision and I doff my metaphorical cap to Team Pickering (you know who you are) for their supreme organizational skills. I also extend my deep gratitude to all of House Grandage, for welcoming me to the bosom familias and giving me the most entertaining Christmas I've had in years. I hope gashed chins and fractured kneecaps have healed and that the phrase 'Tip Tip' quietly fades into distant memory, never to be mentioned again. Fat chance I fear.

B

Rimage 2004 Syrah

It has been pointed out to Billsworth, that the blog of late, has had an unhealthy leaning towards all things kitteh. While undeniably cute, this doesn't make for terribly profound reading. In order to make amends, I'm kicking off the New Year with a new blog project, working title 'Stuff that gets us pissed.' As Loved One and I have been receiving a very nawtee box of superb wine every second month from the gurus at Philglas & Swiggot, we feel it only fair that we feature on these hallowed pages, the stand-out stars from each box for your predilection. Naturally we don't want this transition to serious (ahem) journalism to be too jarring, so our first featured tipple, the 2004 Rimage Syrah will be introduced by yon kitteh, who appear to have indulged a bit over the chrissie period themselves. This taste monster was enjoyed with lemon n' garlic chicken and a driving bass line, followed by sticky toffee pud and a hearty swig of Benylin Chesty Coughs.

I will be posting Chrissie related pics and a breakdown of Christmas festivities, AKA, Project Pickering, shortly.

B

I haz a giant paw

Haahahaha etc. OK, so there's going to be a lot of this business going on around here, y'all just have to suck it up until I've exhausted my kitteh worship (which may be some time).

B

Crazee animal action

More evidence that tequila is an equal opportunities destroyer of minds, as poor duggy stares blearily out into the void. I didn't really mean for her to knock back my shot for me, but put your glass down for a second... Pickle the parrotcat could possibly do with a shot or two of the old mescal herself; perhaps a little too in tune with her primal instincts if the holes in Loved One's hand are anything to go by.

Many thanks to the whole fandamily for their most excellent birthing gifts and all round hospitality. There may be a few bottles of red left in the world for us to drink, but Christmas should finish them (and us) off, I have no doubt. I'm glad we had a chance to practice our cabaret routine and I apologize for moulting so heavily on the carpet, performing show tunes tends to bring on rampant hair loss in me, I don't know why.

Let Project Pickering commence!

B

The cuteness continues

Haahahaahaahahaahaahahahahahahaahaha! Aaah.

B

Interpol

This is the faceless, thousand yard stare of the post goth, post punk, post mortem Interpol gig goer. See how lifeless are his eyes, how the declamatory clang of Interpol's over used bangajanga guitar riff has worn away his slack jawed mouth. He has traveled further than every before to be here, this place, this N22, this Allie Pallie. He has endured pretentious, self involved noodling from a support band who frankly should have been stoned off the stage after one tune, rather than be allowed to play for over an hour. He has exchanged tokens for beer, tokens for cider, tokens for whiskey and coke, yet still the pain persists. The pain of post goth New York loucheness that gushes forth from the lips of Paul Banks as he barks:

Now I'm alone, you can't make amends/
Now I won't let you sit by/
But so call in the kids/
Now that's enough with this fucking incense

Just spare me the suspense

Yeah Paul, spare us all mate and fall on your fretboard.

Still, nice to get out and aways a pleasure to see the Elegant Analyst. Can I choose the next gig pretty please?

B

Man Illuminates Sign with the Power of His Mind

Must be that mega-watt smile.

B

We iz on yr couch, sleepin

Hahahahaahhahahahahahaha. Aaah.

B

House- Sandman cometh (again)

My buttocks are aching and I have lingering patches of varnish in bad places, but here it is, the newly sanded and varnished brekkie room. This will be the last (pre-party) house posting , the bedroom ceiling has been done and the first layer of sparkle blue applied. Hopefully another coat will do it, then a bit of eggshell on the wood and Robert is your Father's brother. Then we have to clean. Bah. Parties, who needs em?

B

House- final countdown

This tantalizing glimpse of the breakfast room is all I can offer in this, the final week of the great housecapade. You can see the thing for yourselves come the weekend, just don't tramp about in it with yer stilettos, swinging yer glasses of red wine about the place (specifically, about the sofa.) It seems rash after nearly 11 weeks of non-stop renovation, to be putting the whole thing in harm's way by exposing it to one's marauding com padres, but it's not every day a lady turns er, 21 +, so we have to celebrate in style. Be gentle please, it's her first time (her being the house, ahem).

B

Kitteh

Haahahahaahahaahahaahahaahahaahahahahahahaahahahahahahaha! Aaah.

B

House - Tour 2

Fire in Babylondon

Always nice to know your local fire service is close to hand in the event your neighbour's car gets firebombed. Bravo chaps! Thanks for rushing around so quickly to put out the FLAMING CAR, a mere three cars down from our own humble transporter. Sure, there may have been a problem with the electrics, or some other completely benign form of spontaneous combustion. This reporter remains doubtful. Ah well, nothing like a warm welcome to the neighbourhood.

B

(All pictures, blurred though they maybe, copyright Billsworth!)

House - The tour

House - Enter sandman

'Don't do it' they said, 'You'll regret it' they said. Ha say I, we did do it and it looks fab! Despite the odd blister and ruptured hamstring, the whole sanding business went off really well. Muchos gracias to Mr.Cree who gave of his valuable sabbatical time to drive the lean mean green machine while I made like a sumo and attacked the edges. The whole thing took us about four hours, and we even managed to get in a first layer of varnish before the sun went down. I applied a second coat the next day with a brush (the flat mop business looks like it should be easier, but those mops don't really take to varnish that well) and am altogether happy with the result. Oh yes, and the bathroom is also finished, and I think the glass tiles in the shower look really sweet. The support bracket for the missing chimney breast is meant to be going in today, so hopefully the whole place won't fall down now, just as it's all coming together. The mellow moca on the hallway walls looks er, mellow, and now there's really just the utility room and plastering the kitchen to do. That said, both of these things seem to be exhausting the Bulgars, as they appear to be avoiding them. Don't stumble at the last hurdle men, the flag is in site etc.

B

Return to the Shire

Wiltshire that is, home to ancient piles of rock, large chalk horses and my mother when she were but a childer. Summoned in mid-build, I swept off to this most beautiful of counties with three oldies in tow and one cousin. My Canadian Uncle had been given this trip back to his homeland by his daughter as a happy 80th birthday present. The fact that he'd only turned 79 was neither here nor there, she'd already booked the tickets so he was coming no matter what. To crown off this prodigal return, I was to deliver them all to the doorstep of the cottage where they grew up; the National Heritage postcard you see above in the village of Cherhill. Cherhill is also home to one of four chalk horses scattered about Wiltshire, and Mater was going to walk up and see it, even if it killed my Aunt. Uncle was having none of it, having already OD'd on nostalgia and russet apples back at the cottage, so we left him snoring in the car and trudged through icy winds to see yon horsey. Feeling we hadn't sufficiently had our fill of old things, we also did Avebury and Stonehenge, both of which are deeply underwhelming in every respect. I recommend stopping by the horse and taking a turn around this very dinky village tho, apparently the cottage was first noted in the Doomsday book so it's been around awhile. If you happen to stop by the pub however, don't eat the duck breast in orange and passion fruit sauce. Quite bitter it was, like the person who had to consume it.

B

House- Construction time again

Yessiree, it's all coming together. Here we have the newly installed kitchen, complete with freshly painted ceiling. The new bathroom is also in and functional and the shower looks great. Hopefully the request to add a few more tiles behind the sink, won't be greeted with looks of Bulgarian disdain. The en suite looks fab, some artful tiling going down here too which better not be trashed by the installation of the supporting bracket. The spare rooms have been carpeted and painted and the walk in wardrobe is ready for er, wardrobing, now that this nice Bulgarian lady has finished touching it up. We're starting to see the proverbial light, once the hallway has been decorated and I've sanded the reception floors with the assistance of Mr Gooey Cree, we should be semi-ready to move in at the end of next week. No rest for us though, as the roof people then start the Monday after. I cry a little.

B

House - Master Plaster Part 2

Ha, how soopa do the kitchen tiles look? They look farging soopa! Never mind they still need to be grouted n' stuff, I care not. This is the first time I've actually seen something going in, as opposed to being ripped out. The boys are tromping along at a furious pace. I'm trying not worry about the fact that my chief builder and leader of the whole Bulgar invasion has gone on a five day piss- up in Morocco with ten of his mates. 'Beer is 30p, water is 30p, who would drink water, hahahaahaha!' Let's just hope he comes back. Master plaster mysteriously dropped a day, but he's back in full effect and will hopefully finish all the rooms by the end of the week. Loved One has been on leave and has worked like a trojan to paint the front room single handed, the woman is a saint etc. We've now shelled out for a roof refurbishment and two velux windows in the loft along with foam insulation, so the music room is a lot closer to completion than expected. The fact that we will be paying it off for the next ten yers is neither here nor there, I larf in the face of ludicrous outlays of money left right and centre. I larf like this haahahahahahahahahahahahahhaahahaahahahahahahaha. Ha.

B