I like dirty guitars so is there any greater sound on earth than Keith Richards in his pomp taking his guitar and some poor, innocent riff to the limit of their endurance and just when you think it is all over lifting his arm up to do it it all over again with Charlie Watts in the background hammering an almighty noise out of the smallest of drum kits and ideally Mick Taylor not too far away adding colour?

I hope that the neighbours agree because I have been home alone the last few days and Friday night is my last opportunity to let some noise bounce up from off the floor-boards before the family are back and the volume knob on my amplifier slips a few incremental moves to the left.

Amidst the noise I have been cooking some chicken. There wasn’t time to marinade the chicken thighs over night but they had an hour or with some grated ginger and garlic, fish sauce, sugar and chilli.

The thighs have been fried in oil until coloured and then removed, a sliced onion then went through its paces in the same pan and was taken out to join the chicken. Some more sugar and and water was then brought to a boil in the same pan and as it was about to burn everything was tipped back in together with a good slug of stock.

It is bubbling away now and some good rice is on the go and in the background the Stones are breaking down The Midnight Rambler.

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You know that an aunt has your best interests at heart if thirty years ago she gave you as a birthday present a copy of Simon Hopkinson’s Roast Chicken and Other Stories. According to the card that is still inside it arrived late but no matter.

I have it beside me now and will be following his recipe for roast chicken later this afternoon. As he says ‘the better the bird, the better the dish cooked.’I have one of my favourite birds in the fridge downstairs, a bag of potatoes and some dirty carrots.

In an hour or so’s time I will start up the oven and take the chicken out of the fridge. Butter will be rubbed and a clove of garlic will be crushed lightly and popped inside together with some straggly herbs from the garden. Salt and pepper will be applied liberally and a lemon will then be squeezed over it before it gets shoved in the oven.

No gravy will be made. I will simply serve it with the juices left in the bottom of the pan.

In the meantime outside in the garden there has been a suggestion of spring. The sky has been blue all day and although it has been cold there was a lightness in the air. I took this as an opportunity to annoy all the neighbours and have a damp bonfire at the end of the garden. It has been burning for the last couple of hours sending out billows of thick grey smoke across our garden and all the other gardens up and down the road. Hopefully no-one thought to take advantage of the sun to put their washing outside. If they did then it will be tinged with the smell of burning leaves. Perhaps not a bad thing.

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Happily I found some beetroot still lurking in the veg patch and a thick end of horseradish which should do for the cold roast beef left over from last night.

It wasn’t all bad news at The Farmer’s Market this morning.

One of the butchers had a fine rib of beef standing proud on the top of the counter. There were two ribs in it and for a second I was tempted to get them both. Then common sense (and my aching wallet) intervene and I agreed with the butcher that he should cut it in half and deliver to me just the one rib.

Watching him go at it with a sharp knife, then saw and then with a cleaver, brought back memories of one of the more grisly episodes of War & Peace and the work that a doctor did with much the same implements with men brought back shattered from the battlefield.

The rib had a satisfying weight to it in my bag as I walked round picking up my bag of potatoes and carrots and some bread for lunch.

At home shortly before cooking it I took it out of its bag and gave it some air and then using my fingers to rub in some olive oil and seasoning it with salt and pepper. It looked good enough to eat as it was even before going into the oven.

At home potatoes were peeled and I rescued a bag of patron peppers that had been forgotten in the rush to produce food last weekend.

The beef went into a very hot oven for about half an hour until it was angry and spitting fat. The heat was then turned down and I boiled the potatoes.

Once the potatoes were done the beef came out of the oven to rest covered in a layer of silver foil and a tea-towel.

The potatoes were cubed and fried in hot olive oil. They fell apart as I cooked them but that didn’t matter. What was important was a good crust of almost burnt potato with plenty of salt and some garlic.

The patron peppers were left until last – fried in oil with salt and then piled up next to the potatoes.

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They went mighty good good with the beef.

I am going to have to make some room in the freezer.

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We have been living here in Birkenhead for almost 16 years and for almost as long as that every second Saturday of the month I have made my way down to New Ferry for The Wirral Farmer’s Market.

There are plenty of good things there: Welsh Black Beef, Organic Lamb, home-made chocolate, veal if you want it, off cuts of bacon and good vegetables including potatoes and carrots still thick with dirt from the ground they have come from.

But the big constant as far as I am concerned is the stand selling chickens that is just on the right hand side as you go in. To my mind they are the best chickens you could ever ask for. When Simon Hopkinson wrote “Roast Chicken and other stories” it is chickens like these that he had in mind. There is nothing pale and easy about them. There is an earthy smell about them that tells of time spent outside and there is a gaminess to their taste. And they come with giblets. Is there anyone reading this now who knows where they can get a chicken with giblets?

I buy one of their chickens every month when I go and invariable we have it roasted for Sunday lunch although their have been variations.

Today they had a sign up to say that due to oncoming retirements they are downsizing and won’t be able to make The Farmer’s Market after April. I won’t be here in April so there is just one more chance after this month for me to buy one of their chickens. I might even stock up and stash a few away in the freezer.

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For lunch we had some of their thighs cooked in oil and shredded and then stuffed in a baguette with salad, tomato and onion and a good dollop of hot sauce.