Alex K

-- on the St Francis estate, at least (off Edgar Kail Way / Dog Kennel Hill). A minute, no more. Then the yelping of home security-system alarms. -- For curiosity's sake only, anyone know what caused it?

Intemperate text deleted. I think that to claim "health and safety" as a reason for cutting down trees is conceivable; but not the representation of tree-leveling as the least that a conscientious care-giver might do. A conscientious care-giver might, as with conkers ("They're not proper chestnuts; don't eat them, they'll make you ill"), warn those in her charge: Don't eat the yew trees' needles, berries, seeds, bark; don't chew their twigs. That would be the least that she could do. That would be enough. The tenor of the head-of-school's response, above, is... trunchbullesque. I HAVE BEEN CHALLENGED AND I SHALL HAVE MY WAY. Health-and-safety as a rag to cover naked aggression: Well, to put that on show will teach children a lesson of its own sort, and one that they might as well learn young. I certainly hope that they do NOT learn to deploy the verb "interact" as she has done.

Yep. Ignored it. Do the same.

Hawks pluck away the breast plumage (small, white, fluffy) and eat the pectoral muscle as well as, from below, the liver, heart, and lights under the eaves of the ribs and breastbone. The tail- and wingfeathers, recognisably "pigeon", may be with the rest of the corpse in a neighbour's back garden.

And, with a S?ghegyi furmint (2011) that also accompanied a starter of six Galway Bay oysters on the half-shell, I had parsley-and-ricotta agnolotti, from Burro e Salvia, with coarsely ground black pepper and (yes!) butter and fresh sage, along with lightly poached asparagus spears. I feel so... dirty. So... posh. It won't happen again.

What a good meal friends and I just had at Franco Manca! The pizzas were good, the wine went well with the pizzas, we waited only a quarter-hour to be seated... a lovely late lunch. Maybe better pizza is available in East Dulwich. What we had today, however, was good enough.

Sorry, dbboy, the associations with "sodopizza" are... off-putting. I don't want some toppings. Excuse the phrase "toppings", the same goes for "bottomings". At least on my food.

Feathers are just specially configured keratin -- protein -- wet them (a squortch of washing liquid will help) and put the soggy mass into the brown bin or onto a compost heap, I reckon. Pillowcases... textile options as above.

Well well well well well! Congratulations, and what did you have for lunch, then?

Have BURRO & SALVIA opened? Signs of life at the shop? I live further north (under the duvet with Camberwell **shame**) and haven't made it past 151 Lordship Lane this weekend. Thanks for any information.

numbers Wrote: > And what Jeremy said. Who wants to get up at 5am > to get to Billingsgate?! It's a slog, certainly. Then there's the gutting and scaling (with the repeated washings-down of the sink and drainboard -- the scales fly unexpectedly far), and where ever in the fridge to find room for ALL THIS FISH?, and and and... But every month or so, the desire for a lobster dinner wins out. And a salmon or the like comes home in the boot, alongside the clacking, scrabbling waterbug. Numbers, have you ever yourself made the Billingsgate trek? (I've never been to Smithfield. Can't think of a reason why, certainly easier to get to.)

You perhaps wonder if the goose was clean. This reminds me irresistibly of this inhabitant of the Old Jokes' Home: MR INTERLOCUTOR: Mr Bones, do you know how to clean a goose? MR BONES: Why, no, Mr Interlocutor! How does one clean a goose? MR INTERLOCUTOR: **wordlessly extends a long finger, inserts it into his mouth, and mimes removal of adherent this-and-that** Of more immediate utility, are you sure that a plastic bag of giblets has not been left beneath neck skin, within the cavity? Melting, burning plastic certainly can stink.

And in a few weeks, a few months -- "Why doesn't the council shovel my walks?" Grrrr. "Why doesn't the council spoon-feed me?" James, if you can introduce a measure that makes the freeholder -- council, landlord, private individual(s) -- responsible for clearing leaves and snow from walks along her property's street footage, with fines and back-up via council workmen if snow / ice, in particular, are not removed to published standard within twenty-four hours after a storm is over, you will be a hero. Obligations of this sort, embodied in municipal ordinances, are the rule rather than the exception in many USA localities. If we can adopt Black Friday from the Yanks, we can adopt this do-it-yourself approach as well.

I like learning about Louisa and Foxy. They have lives of which I can only dream. And if the forum turns into an East Dulwich edition of HELLO so much the better.

Mmmmph. No reason not to air a grievance widely. And not all who might be interested visit all fora. So -- KK, simmer down.

Lots of options out there -- http://i.imgur.com/WxLZKR3.jpg

Done. After the "traffic calming" works on the Walworth Road, the Old Kent Road is by comparison a superhighway. Camberwell and Peckham Rye need that Tube line.

Oh, good heavens. That could have crushed / decapitated an entire deckful of passengers. Were you up or down?

Right, that's signed then.

Hmmmm... Seabag's opinion aside: If our tenants don't mind, there's an end-terrace gable wall on Abbotswood Road that might be a decent canvas. But, differently spelt, we'd have to canvass the residents opposite to see if they'd object to living with art visible from their doors and windows. PM me, please.

catcalls -- [email protected] -- Jane MATTHEWS. Lovely woman. Great care.

Sounds brilliant, dulwichgourmet -- what date, please, and at what exchange rate? (I'd like to compare that with rates from other brokers on the same day.) Thanks in advance!

Thanks, all. Too much American TV before bedtime, I reckon. -- North OF London, within a half-mile OF Goose Green... "of" meaning direction, limit, distance. Or something. Maybe that's where the "quarter OF three" fits in.

"Of" to indicate direction (or extent of separation): North of London, or within an hour of Victoria Station, or "quarter of three". Probably too much American TV before falling asleep.

Up the ante. Go for the honeybucket challenge -- and do it for infectious hepatitis.