Dear Readers, I don't wish to appear unkind, but I do think that the originator of this blog, Mrs Scrote, whoever she may be, has "lost the pot" as you might say, all this nonsense about birds and all, when the world is crying out for guidance on serious issues like Gordon Brown and crossstitch and the best dressing to put on a plum omelette.
So, equally without appearing to be pushy, I have decided to take it upon myself to appropriate this blog and give you all the benefit, humbly speaking, of my vast experience of such issues as the above.
So, to business. I, well, I have no opinion about G Brown, except to say that he should get his chin fixed.
I have tried crossstitch, but have lost my enthusiasm for samplers as they all seem to be about cathedrals, and me, being a Methodist (Old Wesleyan) am not in sympathy with all that idletolatory, not even the Verging Mary, despite her being a single-parent and a feminist and all.
So, if you will allow, I will confine myself for the moment to matters culinary. Having become a vegetarian (not a vegan, mind you: I couldn't do without my bedtime snack of cheese-flavoured potato crisps), I cannot tell you much about how to cook meat, except that it is important to remove it from the animal before you cook it.
What I can tell you is that one of the glories of being of Welsh extraction is that you will never want for leeks. I do mine in a fashion which I believe in posh French restaurants they call Greeks au Latin.
Thank you for reading my little effort. If any of you out there are widows retired like me, perhaps we can exchange notes sometime. I have found some very nice ways of passing winter evenings without the benefit of a husband, much as I miss the late Mr Trellis. But he never was much for the hot-water-bottle side of marriage, if you know what I mean.