For anyone who read last night’s post the good news is that the dishwasher is still fecked and showing even less sign of life than before I spent £200 on getting it repaired and there is no hot water at all when at least before British Gas came to do their repairs there was  enough to fill the sink in the kitchen. And I have just volunteered to spend my Saturday night shuttling to and from Manchester Airport.

So I am finishing off a good bottle of red wine and casting my mind back over the quail I had earlier in the evening.

There was a time that I would welcome future brothers in law into the family with a combination of broken wind, bad breathe and general grunting. Time moves on and I am a father now with a first boyfriend sat nervously at the table. I wonder what he made of the quail.

The kids wanted to eat vegetable pasta bake from M&S. Staring at the plastic packaging on the shelves in the supermarket I resolved to make it myself. I did okay I think although judging by what was left behind on some of the plates I should have stuck with the pasta and left the vegetables.

I had the quail with some of Michael’s bread.

There were four of them. I split them in half and put them in a large metal bowl with some olive oil. I ground up cumin, sea salt and a couple of small fresh bay leaves and rubbed the mixture in together two crushed cloves of garlic.

After half an hour or so the oven was on hot for the pasta bake. So I spread out the quail on a baking tray and put them in as well.

As they cooked I sliced two onions and cooked them in hot olive oil. More by luck than design I avoided burning them and as they caught I threw in splash of balsamic vinegar.

I made toast with Michael’s bread as I served the pasta bake.

I put the toast on a plate, spread some of the onion on top and then laid on two of the quail.

They were delicious. The crisp toast working with the onion and the bits I was able to take from the quail with a knife and fork before picking them up with my fingers.

Listening to another Soul Jazz compilation, this time deep house from 1980’s Chicago and beyond, and something by someone called John Murry which could be very good. It sounds like a more bruised Bathers.

Unusually I have spent the day at home today. At the start of the day I was required to sit in to wait for the return of a hopefully working dishwasher and then for British Gas who were going to sort out the hot water, which has been intermittent. I had vague plans on staying in front of the this thing and making a new start on the book about mackerel but there were telephone calls to be made and emails to be answered and by the time I was ready the dishwasher and British Gas had arrived and the morning was gone.

Over lunch I picked Galen up from school and then sat on him all afternoon for revision.

For supper I wanted to make something that all the kids would eat and enjoy. Byrons is due to be opening in Liverpool soon so I suggested burgers. The girls rejected burgers but said they would eat some chicken in a bun so long as there were chips as well.

The only real effort required was in making breadcrumbs. As always there were some stale pieces of bread to be had. It was just a question of hacking off the bits that looked mouldy before putting them into the Magimix. Some good mince was then mixed with a handful of breadcrumbs, thyme, salt, pepper and a good few dashes of Worcester Sauce. This was all squidged into appropriately shaped patties and left for a while to rest.

In the meantime I coated two chicken breasts with some more of the breadcrumbs and flavoured them with paprika.

A shout then went up to the kids, ‘Ten minutes to go, get down here to help!’

That was ignored of course and so I shouted again, ‘Unless you get in here its going in the bin,’

They came slowly and got out their plates. There was no need for knives and forks and we ate at the food greedily with our fingers.

My supper this evening was some of the leftover chicken from the roast we had on Sunday. I made a salad with good chunks of the chicken, green leaves and croutons with a dressing that again included some of the Spicy Red Currant Jelly that has been sitting in the back of the fridge for years. The croutons were made with slices from stale French stick that I threw in the oven with some olive oil until toasted. The kids were good enough to acknowledge how good it looked but were happier with their plates of spaghetti.

The chicken had been a one pot roast. I par boiled some potatoes and tucked them around the chicken damped it all down with some olive oil and gave it a good dusting of smoked paprika, salt and pepper. It all went into a medium over for about 90 minutes. Halfway through I mixed in two sliced red peppers and three heads of fresh garlic.

The only complaint from the kids was the lack of gravy.

It has gone cold again and the wind that has been whipping up from The Mersey has lowered the temperature even further. Despite that the sun has been out and during lunch there was nothing but blue sky overhead.

We have been home alone now for almost 48 hours and so far the sharp knives have not been out. Most of the family have settled down into rhythm of revision and the exams start tomorrow. There will be a release of pressure once they are finally underway and the end is in sight.

As the evening glooming gathered up around the house I looked out of the window over the garden and against the black silhouette of the trees I saw the the quick sharp flicker of a bat. Its flight was jerky and indistinct. It was lost against the dark and then flickered again.