"I’m On Call, To Be There…I’ll Come A Running"

I got back from the Kings of Leon concert about half an hour ago, and have just been chilling, even though it’s around midnight now. I haven’t posted for a while what with one thing and another, but hopefully I can soon get back into my “happy little rut,” as Marge Simpson calls it, of cooking dinner and photographing it and subsequently writing about it.

I found out two days ago that Tim’s uncle, a man that I liked a lot, had died unexpectedly. Tim and his entire family are foremost in my thoughts at all times. I won’t say much more about that, but Tim couldn’t go to the concert tonight and I couldn’t go to be with him or be there for him, leaving me feeling a little muddled, helpless even. I don’t know when he will be coming back here, which is obviously understandable, but it certainly changed my feelings about going to the Kings of Leon gig, it felt odd to be doing something so frivolous. But I went, and so did some of my flatmates, and the band were amazing – absolutely wonderful. The title for this post comes from one of their songs, by the way.

Ange, who used to live with us (and is therefore a card-carrying member of Team Hadfield) dragged me right up the front of the crowd, a place I am normally far too bashful and nervous to approach. I ended up getting an absolutely incredible view of the band, and was able to hold my own during all the pushing and shoving. Afterwards, our flatmate Stefan met up with his cousin, who was also at the gig. His cousin, the jammy dodger, had caught the guitar pick that the lead singer threw into the audience! And I got to touch it! Squeeeee! Seriously, I think the Kings of Leon do such fantastic music, all Southern and bluesy and brilliant (I refuse to say “whisky-soaked,” that overused phrase.) If you don’t like their music you barely deserve ears. But really – try it sometime. For newcomers, I recommend their first album Youth and Young Manhood.

Above: Because this is a food blog, I thought I oughta show you what I had for dinner. Yes, an entire bag of twisties. Well, they’re comforting, in their own funny way. As I ate I was reminded of when I was younger and would tell myself that “when I grow up” I’m going to eat nothing but, say, cheezels and roast chicken and butterscotch sauce all day long. I have to admit, all the sodium and yellow food colouring made me feel a tiny bit odd in the stomach as I jumped up and down at the concert.

Above: The kindness of strangers reminds me that it is in fact an okay world, after all. The lovely Jilly, from the food forum I frequent, sent me the long-coveted Nigella Express all the way from Australia- simply because she had an extra copy. If that isn’t the nicest thing you’ve ever heard…another act of kindness came from Linda from the same forum, who sent me some porcini powder ‘just because.’ Thankyou both ENORMOUSLY! I haven’t read much of Nigella’s new tome so I am very excited about getting into it at last.

5 thoughts on “"I’m On Call, To Be There…I’ll Come A Running"

  1. Kay says:

    Have decamped from the “disco-tent”. We are now back home in the process of washing everything and finding places to store things for another year. Our final breakfast was the camping version of the Euro-tour hotel full breakfast – which conveniently finished all the left overs and odd bits of fresh food left in the compound:tinned peaches with fresh apple and tangelo, meusli, weetbix; one tin of spaghetti stretched to feed 7 via the cunning addition of cheese and milk; reheated left over sausages from last night, scrambled eggs, toast and left over pasta salad with bacon, courgettes, red onion and capsicum; followed by tea and toast with honey and jam. Managed to fit everything back into three cars leaving no evidence of our ever being there apart from a few square patches of dead grass and some patches of wax from the citronella candles. Mark’s cooking tea and he’s said it’s ready so must go: steak and salad.


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