So, I'm roasting a chicken (stuffed with lemon and rosemary), and naturally I start a stock with the leftover bits of wings and innards and such. I'm adding all the usual suspects (leek, garlic, carrot, celery, s&p) when I find myself tossing in dried sage, tarragon, and thyme.) There they are, floating on the top of my stock all soggy and grey. Then it comes, like Persephone rising from the underworld. It is SPRING! I have fresh herbs popping up all over my garden. So I fish out all those nasty herbs and set out with my scissors. I found replacements for all the things I'd wisely tossed, and chives as well. It all smells so wonderful, bubbling away on my stove. (Now I'm hungry!)

I've had several requests for the lyrics of "Angry Birds!", written at Conflikt and debuted at Duple Time. The verse is sung roughly to the game's tune; for the refrain think Wagnerian war cry.

INTRO:
There was a time when waits in line truly bummed me out.
My appointment set at 9 A.M... "But it's 10:02!" I'd shout.
Now, happily, you'll hear no grumbled words
As I whip out phone or tablet and play Angry Birds!

See the grunters in their bunkers,
Load an eager birdy and take aim.
Draw the slingshot, fling my birdshot,
Sending pigeons out to soar and maim.
Hear the boars and piglets snigger
When my feathered missile hits the roof.
Joyful smashing, mighty crashing,
The inevitable "flop" and "poof!"

CHORUS:
Angry Birds fill the sky
Raining death from on high.
"Vengeance for the quiche!" I cry.
Morendum porcos!
Pigs must die, die, die!
Morendum porcos!
Pigs must die!

CHANT (between every chorus and verse):
Eggs and bacon, eggs and bacon, eggs and bacon, eggs and bacon

Biddies bungle in the jungle,
In the city streets and desert plains.
Hear a duck quack. Poke a jet pack.
Beat the bangers into mash again.
Raging redbirds, bleating bluebirds,
Cranky bantam cocks and hostile tits
Pounding orc swine into pork rind,
Pulverizing styes to bacon bits.

CHORUS & CHANT

Grating waiting now abating,
I play placidly in checkout lines.
No more up-tight at the stop light.
Ques for loos are now a grand ol' time.
Tales at movies can be groovy,
And those tardy waitresses don't rile.
Bombing hog's heads into sausage
With a flock of birdies makes me smile.

CHORUS TWICE

We are having a jolly holiday in Grantham. Arriving a day before the con gave time to spend with Mike and Anne Whitaker. Enjoyed the tradition sacrifice of Chinese crispy duck. Next morning it took three cars to haul all the kit from Peterborough. Gave me a chance to catch up with Rika.

I finished cross-stitching "Absent Friends" on the memorial chair just in time for opening ceremonies. Keris' is the first badge added to it. I pray there won't be many more.

Mike and I got to provide jazz licks in Mary Crowell's first concert. And it's been great spending time with Gwen again. The music has been very fine, as has the Old Rosy cider. I'm afraid bedlamhouse enjoyed a tad bit too much "real" ale tonight, and likely won't be joining me tomorrow for the traditional English breakfast.

All together, a fun time.