A brief innings

I put it to you, m'Lud, that no other sport is as pleasing to the eye as cricket. And in particular, the art of batting, and within that art, the technique we used to call the straight bat (meaning, of course, the vertical bat) effected, in the case of a right-handed batsman, by raising high the left elbow while stepping into the line of the ball. As youngsters, we were told to practise our strokes in front of a mirror. I did. Back defensive: Right foot, step back, across and in front of the stumps. Then left leg close the gap, feet together. High left elbow, bat vertical, in front of the body. I had it off to a T.

One Sunday, Ayr (my team) was playing an early season friendly match against Clydesdale who had a new professional. Each club was allowed one professional player. Mr Rock, from Jamaica, was over six feet tall and a fast bowler. When it came my turn to face him, I knew just what to do. I'd been practising all winter at the mirror. His first ball flew past me at chest height before I'd even moved my feet. But I was ready for his second. Right foot back, left together, high left elbow, straight bat - perfect. The ball struck the face of the bat squarely and dropped like a stone at my feet. Unfortunately, mirror practice does nothing to strengthen the wrists, so the bat flew backwards on impact, catching me a fierce blow in the goolies which ended my brief innings. Style, 10. Effectiveness, 0.

At last - The Paraplexed Crossword

 The Basic Crossword

Across 1. The newish name for Twitter (1)

Down   1. The third-last letter of the English alphabet (1)

The Intermediate Crossword

Across 1. The newish name for Twitter, repeated once (1,1)

             3. The number 20, as written by Marcus Junius Brutus (2)

Down   1. A possible shorthand for one's previous partner but one (1,1)

             2. Substitute signatures for two illiterate individuals (1,1)

The Advanced Crossword

Across 1. A winning row in noughts & crosses (1,1,1)

             4. A traditional descriptor for a premium strength ale (3)

             5. The number of days in September, as written by Caius Cassius (3)

Down   1. The newish name for Twitter, repeated twice (1,1,1)

             2. A winning column in noughts & crosses (1,1,1)

             3. An amorous appendage to a signature in a love letter (1,1,1)

How to turn KFC Crispy Strips into Something Edible

You open up your Crispy Strips Meal and reel backwards at the smell of fat. OK, there's possibly a hint of chicken in there too. You carry out a quick survey: three large fried things (probably the chicken), a small pot of coleslaw, a cone of chips (fries, if you prefer), four small sachets of tomato ketchup and a Pepsi. A few other bits and pieces that are even less edible than the food.

crispy strips, or deep fried teddy bears? | Source

Anatomy of a KFC Crispy Strip

Crispy Strips don't look like chicken. In fact they look like deep fried teddy bears. Their thick coat is a way of selling less chicken and more batter. And more fat.

You seize the ugliest one and bite into it. You get a mouthful of hot oil and bugger-all flavour. You realise that you're not going to finish one of these, never mind three. But you're still hungry. The chips are a lost cause, having wilted inside the steamy box. What to do next?

You wander into the kitchen in search of inspiration. An idea surfaces slowly through the receding mists of beer. It is a kitchen, after all! You select a medium sized pan. You know it's medium sized because you have one that's bigger and one that's smaller. Cooking is easy.

You throw the chips in the bin.

You take the four sachets of tomato ketchup and squirt their contents into the pan.

You grab a lemon, halve it, and squeeze the juice of one half into the pan. It's offended by the ketchup but you don't care.

You chop one small green chilli as finely as you can be bothered, and do the same to a piece of fresh root ginger about the size of your great toe. Into the pan with these.

You empty in the contents of the coleslaw tub, using the forefinger of your right hand as a scraper. You're cooking for yourself, so this is just fine.

You add one teaspoonful of garam masala. If you don't have this, you can use curry powder, but you do, you see, because you're me in this narrative!

You add enough water to make it wet, and let it simmer slowly, because simmering quickly isn't simmering, OK?

the best place for it

Take three KFC Crispy Strips...

You brace yourself for what you are about to do, and with thumb and forefinger you prize the pieces of chicken free from their foul coating.

You squidge the coating into the KFC Meal box, shut the lid on it and chuck it in the bin, the only place it is fit for.

You remove any bones and obvious gristle, cut the chicken into sensible sized pieces and add them to the simmering sauce. They jump up and thank you.

The chicken is already cooked of course, so you give it only a few minutes to come up to heat and absorb some flavour. It's beginning to smell just great.

It says Aqua Fina, in Arabic, OK?

And that's about it

You try the Pepsi and find it warm, flat and disgustingly sweet, so you pour it down the drain.

You pour a glass of water instead, except you use a steel tumbler which works every bit as well.

You serve your fresh chicken dish on a proper plate and eat it with a metal knife and fork, like the civilised chap you are.

You don't bother taking photographs of it because you're too hungry. You just enjoy the fresh tastes and scents of lemon, ginger and garam masala spices. And your heart is grateful too.

Eat your heart out, Colonel Sanders!

The Bollard & the Law of Thirds

The phone call was going on a bit, the sun was hot, the atmosphere humid and the bollard was the only berth available.
The Law of Thirds (photographic composition) states that the best positioning for the main subject detail is the intersection of vertical and horizontal trisecting lines, adequately and innocently confirmed here by our friend Joe.
And speaking of bollards, on another occasion and another country, an Irish friend with a gift for  metaphor related how one of the company, much the worse for wear, left the bar to attempt the short walk home. "We found him 100 yards down the road, starfished over a bollard". An unforgettable image!