Policing at QPR
As I walked away from Loftus Road last Tuesday, I was surprised at how many police were on duty.
Obviously, it was because there was a large and angry crowd with a history of violence between the two teams, it was necessary to have this sort of presence of the boys in blue.
But the crowd was 10,000 or so, the Ipswich supporters were their usual well-behaved bunch, everybody seemed to be talking to each other as they walked towards the Tube, I didn’t see anybody who was the least bit drunk and it was all rather cold. Would you really want aggro on a very cold day? Possibly, it would be a way of warming up.
So do the Met just treat all matches the same and send it everything including the kitchen sink and the cavalry, when quite frankly they should be used for something more important than a peaceful football match. Should I for instance report the police to the RSPCA for getting the horses out unnecessarily on a cold night?
The was one unsavoury incident though. The QPR supporters did slag off their club’s owner.
Spam Messages
This was the body of a spam e-mail I received.
Introduction The girl scout around a crane caricatures a flabby cloud formation. Another most difficult eggplant operates a small fruit stand with a carelessly polka-dotted deficit. If the mortician steals pencils from a bullfrog, then a fundraiser defined by the tomato ceases to exist. If a For example, a tornado about a tomato indicates that a cheese wheel about the wheelbarrow writes a love letter to a paper napkin. Some corporation over a tornado hesitantly is a big fan of another tomato from the freight train. A cargo bay is impromptu. A rude minivan rejoices, and the wheelbarrow caricatures a ball bearing. When the dust bunny living with a tornado is proverbial, some geosynchronous polar bear sanitizes the cab driver. Now and then, the globule gives a pink slip to the prime minister from a customer. The tape recorder aro faults with a soggy polygon. Introduction A buzzard recognizes a greedily rude crane. Most people believe that a lover about a satellite reaches an understanding with a diskette near the parking lot, but they need to remember how wisely the sandwich gets stinking drunk. When a pompous burglar returns home, an umbrella prays. nWUQPeBMQIZgCH[AXUThe formless void borrows money from a customer behind the stovepipe. A deficit derives r freight train laughs out loud, a demon earns frequent flier miles. A canyon around the grain of sand is hypnotic. Any grand piano can organize a crane, but it takes a real eggplant to seek the magnificent crane. When the turkey is frozen, a class action suit slyly figures out an apartment building. Indeed, the hockey player caricatures the tornado. When you see the canyon, it means that a crane beyond a formless void prays. Introduction When another mortician toward the blithe spirit is college-educated, a CEO inside the apartment building sanitizes the accidentally slow razor blade. A cocker spaniel is boiled. Sometimes a most difficult dolphin beams with joy, but a hydrogen atom always has a change of heart about the burglar! When a completely makeshift hydrogen atom leaves, a single-handledly load bearing recliner hides. carpet tack about a short order cook plans an escape from a gentle light bulb the cashier inside a dust bunny. The oil filter living with the skyscraper Indeed, the chestnut defined by some nation knowingly laughs and drinks all night with a turn signal living with some polar bear. A proverbial defendant is rude. The overripe cyprus mulch steals pencils from a stoic fruit cake. Any vacuum cleaner can negotiate a prenuptial agreement with a tripod related to a polygon, but it takes a real bottle of beer to accidentally share a shower with a vacuum cleaner over some cyprus mulch. An apartment building self-flagellates, and a completely tattered deficit takes a coffee break; however, a tripod over a pine cone buries the ostensibly twisted avocado pit. The feverishly loyal inferiority complex sells an eggplant inside the tuba player to the earring, but the customer somewhat finds lice on a cough syrup. When a hockey player for the roller coaster is cosmopolitan, another foreign reactor sanitizes the slyly dirt-encrusted briar patch. Furthermore, a nuclear cargo bay ruminates, and the Alaskan squid dances with the eggplant about a rattlesnake.
You could imagine Richard Burton or Eric Cantona reading it. It would still not make sense, but it would have a certain lilt to it.
As a programmer though, you have to admire the man, who wrote the program that writes this rubbish.
Gluten-Free Pasta with Broccoli, Feta and Puttanesca
This recipe is a modified version of one from Waitrose.
I basically changed the pasta for Doves Farm gluten free penne and doubled the quantity, so it served four. It fact, I miscounted as there were five and a half for dinner, but it stretched OK with the addition of a salad.
The ingredients were.
- 100g feta, cubed
- 300g of Doves Farm gluten free penne pasta
- 400g purple sprouting broccoli, cut into short lengths. I actually used broccoli florets cut into small pieces, as I bought the wrong sort. But you can use cauliflowers as well. Perhaps try them mixed.
- 180g jar Waitrose Cooks’ Ingredients Puttanesca Mix
- 50g pine nuts, toasted
- Grated zest of lemon
The method was as follows.
- I cooked the pasta according to the instructions on the packet in a large saucepan, until it was just tender. It was then drained and kept in the pan.
- The broccoli was cooked at the same time. But don’t stew it.
- Add the broccoli, feta, puttanesca mix, pine nuts and lemon zest to the pasta. Toss all together thoroughly and serve on warmed serving plates. I did cook it for perhaps a minute on the low hob of the AGA.
As I said earlier, I served it with a green salad.
I was the only coeliac at the table, but no-one complained about the pasta. So perhaps, gluten-free pasta isn’t always that bad.
I do think though, that of all gluten-free penne works best. After all Carluccio’s serve this type on their gluten-free menu. I think too, that it worked extremely well with the broccoli in this recipe.
The Anonymous Widower 