Just out of bed this morning and starting to cook the bacon I saw a magpie flying across the back of the garden with a large twig in its beak. Presumably it was in the process of starting a nest but it must be starting early given that it was still freezing and had started to snow again.

In the meantime the grass under the bird feeder has been scratched away by the blackbirds and pigeons scrambling to get at the leavings from the tits and finches that have been at the bird feeder itself.

Another couple of hours have been spent up in the attic this afternoon as part of the tidying up process. I even threw a few things away. In the process I came across the oldest copy of the NME I have dating back to 1983. It was part of a batch that inherited from a fried who was moving house and could not bear to throw them away. I didn’t read them first time round as for the first six months of 1983 I was at Randolph-Macon College in the States. I remember coming home in summer and it felt as if I had lost touch with music because I had not seen the NME for six months and it was full of talk of The Style Council and this new band called The Birthday Party who had a singer with spiked black hair called Nick Cave.

This evening we are going to be eating a chicken stew with couscous from How to eat by Nigella Lawson. I remember when the book came out it seemed to set out a very nice blue print for our aspirational lives. Lots of copies were given away as a presents and we bought some of the sequels but then felt let down when some of the recipes in How to be a domestic goddess just didn’t work – particularly her recipe for flapjacks.

But I pulled How to eat off the shelf yesterday looking for something a bit different, perhaps another type of curry that would last until Monday evening. The main attraction of the recipe was the inclusion of harissa and the opportunity that gave to buy another tin of the stuff from The International Store so that in due course it can be added to my collection of empty harissa tins.

The brand sold in The International Store is du Cap Bon and the tins come in a range of sizes. I managed to resist the temptation to buy a 2 litre tin although I have no doubt I will succumb one day. As they say on their website it is made with love, delicacy and know how – as all good food should be!

A number of people have asked after it over the last few days so I should say that the oxtail stew was delicious. It had three hours cooking on Thursday evening and a similar time this evening. In-between I just left it on the floor in the basement. The last few days it has been cold enough not to worry about fridges.

I kept it on a very low heat so barely a bubble broke the surface. It was flavoured with a bay leaf, chopped parsley and carrot. I managed it so there was still some bite to the carrot despite the slow cooking and they added a sweetness to the stew.

As promised we ate it with red cabbage and roast potatoes. For the cabbage I melted a pat of butter in a pan and then added the finely chopped cabbage, admiring again the way that it managed to stain my fingers. I then poured over a half bottle of dry cider, brought it to a slow boil, and then left it to simmer for an hour or so. I drank the rest of the cider.

It was a great compliment to the stew. I was able to push onto each forkful a nugget of meat from the oxtail, the sweet red cabbage and a bite of crisp potato.

Of course there are a couple of vegetarians in the house. They eyed the oxtail with some envy but wouldn’t eat it. So I made a quiche with onions and tomatoes to go with the egg custard. It went down very well.

Listening now to REM and the live album that came with the recent upgrade of Document, waiting for them to sing s. central rain and to be taken back to the night they played the Airport Lounge at Warwick University and I told Pete Buck that I loved him. I’m not sure that he heard.

Four us went to a pub last. Gallagher’s Pub & Barbers just round the corner from Hamilton Square. It was well worth the visit. A narrow room with the bar towards the end and beyond that the barber shop. There was a blackboard with the list of the beers that they had on tap and a row of familiar badges on the pumps.

I started with a Hilbre Gold but the barrel was almost empty and the barman could only squeeze out half a pint before it sputtered and gave up. He gave me the half glass for free and I was well along the way to like the place. Next pump on the bar was badged with Salopian Oracle. The blackboard used the words hoppy and golden which sounded good to me so I went for that.

I may have said it before but it is worth repeating I would far rather a good pint of beer than the best glass of wine. This was one of those good pints. It did what it said on the blackboard with the hops adding the correct amount of bitter after taste although they some sweetness as well. Another truism on beer is that the high that you get as you finish your second pint and start on your third is better than any hard drug. I am not sure I felt particularly high but the good beer and talk eased away the detritus of what had been a bad day and gave the evening a better taste in the mouth.

Over the weekend they do cheese tasting evenings. I may have to nip down tomorrow night with one of the large quarters of Swiss cheese Steve gave me before Christmas.

Now late Saturday afternoon the fire is on and it is dark outside and the oxtail stew has been on the oven for an hour. It will be there for another few hours before we eat it with roast potatoes and a red cabbage that I am going to stew in cider and butter.

The oxtail is now cooking.

I bought a kilo pack last Saturday at The Farmer’s Market and put to it one side in the freezer for a few days. It came out last night to defrost.

This evening I took down the big orange Le Creuset and smeared in some olive oil and put it on a high heat. I cut open the plastic pack of oxtails and tipped them in with salt and copious ground black pepper. Some of them were as big as a fist, others the size of a curled thumb.  They sizzled and browned in the oil for ten minutes. I then threw in a chopped onion and let that cooked for another few minutes before turning the heat down to let it soften.

Five minutes later I tipped in some chopped garlic and turned up the heat before adding two tablespoons of plain flour. I stirred it all round with a wooden spoon and let the flour cook in the oil.

As that continued to cook I brought up from the basement the chicken stock I had made last Saturday evening and a bottle of red wine. Half the bottle went in and was brought to the boil before I covered the oxtails with the stock. Before turning down the heat and putting the lid on I put in two bay leaves and finely chopped parsley.

I will now leave it for a couple of hours until I am ready for bed. I will take it off the heat then and leave it in the basement until tomorrow evening. It will need another couple of hours tomorrow to cook through and we will eat it with roast potatoes.

Settling down now with a glass from the rest of the bottle of red.