Made Glorious Summer by this Tart
Listen here: [audio http://traffic.libsyn.com/2bannab/2BAnnaB_Episode_009.m4a]
- All Spun Up – Spinning
- Loops – Knitting
- American English
- Moment of Drama
(00:52)All Spun Up
Wildcraft January 2013 fibre club in the Hebridean Coast colourway. A beautiful open texel top.
Spinning it up for the Grey Gardens Headband by Kate Burge and Rachel Price in Knitty spring and summer 2013 – a free pattern.
Will show off swap yarn next week…
On the Needles
Still plodding away on: Mouches by Susanne Reese in the colourway country bumpkin. #moucheskal13
Mix a mild goat cheese with one egg and some salt and pepper to taste.
Spread on puff pastry rolled out to 1/8 inch (I bought mine at the store). To make a good shell cut a 1 inch border all around the rolled out pastry first and then set it on the edge of your now smaller rectangle, burshing a little milk between the two layers to help it stick.
Then lay your trimmed asparagus on top of your cheese spread, along with torn strips of proscuitto.
Bake on a parchment (or silpat) lined tray for about 30 min in a 375° F (about 190° C)
To make the straws cut proscuitto length-wise into strips and warp around asparagus. Cook about 20 min in the same oven as above. So yummy!
(16:00) American English
Snooker – a game of billiards
(22:10) Moment of Drama
Richard III – Act 1 Scene i
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth’d his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp’d, and want love’s majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish’d, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew’d up,
About a prophecy, which says that ‘G’
Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here