Bacon & egg butty for lunch - Waitrose dry cured back, crispy. Roast chicken for tea, bottle of Pin Grig in fridge.

...........where is it that you live?

(meant to be a reply to the original post but they both sound good!)

Going into oven at 4pm. Chicken from the farm shop. Stuffed with homemade apple and sage stuffing, rubbed down in butter, bacon on the back and sausages to boot. Home made bread sauce (lots of cloves in the onion). Roast potatoes and parsnips along with carrots, broccolli and sprouts (parp!). Yorkshire puds as well or I'll receive the Paddington Bear stare from the Bisto girls like I'm something stuck to their shoe.

Bakewell tart (also from farm shop) for afters.

A fizzy Aussie Shiraz to drink. A G&T maybe for an aperitif

All was preceded by a Bear Hunt in the fields and woods around our house which involved active stomping, puddle jumping and a discussion on when to voice an opinion and when to keep your counsel. Bisto Daughter the Elder also just returned from her ballet exam so has earned an extra roast potato.

Fire will be lit in the wood stove at around 5.30pm in time for a group collapse on the sofas at around 6.30pm having become replete of our victuals.

Here's a poem for your Roast beef fatmanjez

Rare Roast Beef

When the numerous distempers to which all flesh is heir
Torment us till our very souls are reeking with despair;
When that monster fiend, Dyspepsy, rears its spectral hydra head,
Filling bon vivants and epicures with certain nameless dread;
When any ill of body or intellect abounds,
Be it sickness known to Galen or disease unknown to Lowndes, --
In such a dire emergency it is my firm belief
That there is no diet quite so good as rare roast beef.

And even when the body's in the very prime of health,
When sweet contentment spreads upon the cheeks her rosy wealth,
And when a man devours three meals per day and pines for more,
And growls because instead of three square meals there are not four, --
Well, even then, though cake and pie do service on the side,
And coffee is a luxury that may not be denied,
Still of the many viands there is one that's hailed as chief,
And that, as you are well aware, is rare roast beef.

Some like the sirloin, but I think the porterhouse is best, --
'T' is juicier and tenderer and meatier than the rest;
Put on this roast a dash of salt, and then of water pour
Into the sizzling dripping-pan a cupful, and no more;
The oven being hot, the roast will cook in half an hour,
Then to the juices in the pan you add a little flour,
And so you get a gravy that is called the cap sheaf
Of that glorious summum bonum, rare roast beef.

Served on a platter that is hot, and carved with thin, keen knife,
How does the savory viand enhance the worth of life!
Give me no thin and shadowy slice, but a thick and steaming slab, --
Who would not choose a generous hunk to a bloodless little dab?
Upon a nice hot plate how does the juicy morceau steam,
A symphony in scarlet or a red incarnate dream!
Take from me eyes and ears and all, O Time, thou ruthless thief!
Except these teeth wherewith to deal with rare roast beef.

Most every kind and role of modern victuals have I tried,
Including roasted, fricasseed, broiled, toasted, stewed, and fried,
Your canvasbacks and papa-bottes and mutton-chops subese,
Your patties à la Turkey and your doughnuts à la grease;
I've whiled away dyspeptic hours with crabs in marble halls,
And in the lowly cottage I've experienced codfish balls;
But I've never found a viand that could so allay all grief
And soothe the cockles of the heart as rare roast beef.

I honor that sagacious king who, in a grateful mood,
Knighted the savory loin that on the royal table stood;
And as for me I'd ask no better friend than this good roast,
Which is my squeamish stomach's fortress (feste Burg) and host;
For with this ally with me I can mock Dyspepsy's wrath,
Can I pursue the joy of Wisdom's pleasant, peaceful path.
So I do off my vest and let my waistband out a reef
When I soever set me down to rare roast beef.

stuffed with rosemary and pancetta, roast potatoes in goose fat, broccoli, parsnips, asparagus, nice bottle of red. Aperitif of Crouch Vale Brewers Gold and sofa snuggles with very small son in front of the FA Cup. There is an element of being catered for, admittedly.

with mixed leaves, cherry tomatoes, spring onions and finely grated Montgomery cheddar.

Followed by slices of a home made banana cake with Cornish clotted cream from Rodda's creamery.

A large cold glass of Chilean Sauv Blanc with the grub, having had a hearty Bloody Mary with V8 to perk the taste buds up ahead of the nosh, and probably a generous 12 year old Cardhu single malt to finish the evening.

It's a tough life, but you've got to make an effort on a Sunday in winter.

I will have a bottle or 2 of hobgoblin as a livener then we will eat about 7, a big pot of fish cataplana portugese style, probably followed by some chocolate from the garage (and then we will all definitely quit chocolate tomorrow)

Then some tv and a roaring fire.

..... leftover lamb vindaloo and fried rice (from friday nights takeaway).... and bloody tasty it was too !

Potato waffles topped with baked beans (with a little onion mixed in) and grated cheese.

My girlfriend's daughter was meeting a boy on town. It was made clear that our part in proceedings was to give her a lift, then stay well out of sight until we were required to give her a lift home again.

Keep it quiet from said daughter, but it was great to have a stroll around town by ourselves then pasta at Prezzo (arabiatta followed by sticky toffee pudding for me, pesto followed by honeycomb cheesecake for my girlfriend - soft drinks to wash it down).

I had some bread with butter on.
For my tea I'll have what I'm given.

- like they need lining.

The Light asked for me-time which means shopping and gassing with her best friend. So, Lid time for me. Frisbee and footie in the park. Boy Lid insisted on visiting the pirate ship playground. Girl Lid gave a look of utter disdain. Playgrounds are sooo 2010 for her. She asked if she could whizz round lake on her own on her blades. Heart in mouth I let her. At her age, my parents though protective of their only son would think nothing of chucking me out of the house after breakfast and expect me back at some point around lunchtime. Just having her out of my sight for a few minutes was unbearable. Anyway, all well.

Met up with a mate similarly Lidded up and off to Bill Wyman's burger joint "Sticky Fingers" for lunch. It could do with a bit of a tart up but the Lids love it and they've been so many times they're greeted like old friends by the staff. Good Ribs today. Mate had the Duck Wrap which he proclaimed good.

The Light and friend joined in time for dessert which meant that Mate and I slipped off for a pint of Pride at the Scarsdale - which is a top little boozer.

Bright and cold. A lovely little day in London

roast chicken. Bisto girls now going wild to Tighten Up by The Black Keys having head-banged to some Rainbow.

Ooh, we've shuffled onto Lindstrom: serious disco ensues.

Love to all the Massive!

Bisto and brood

A large Double Whopper, 15 Chicken nuggets, 3 portions of fries, three fizzy drinks and a fruit salad. That was me taking 5 children on a museum visit. They had one nugget each and I had the rest. Oink!

I managed a few Curiously Cinnamon cereals (or whatever this week's name is), a toasted bagel and later a tin of vegetable soup, In fact that is all I have had all weekend. Fear not, I am not competing for the Chubby Checker of the week. I am recovering from a bout of the Winter Vomiting Bug that kept me in bed most of yesterday and then catching up on a full V+ box today. Tomorrow I shall hopefully be well enough to tackle my daily Weetabix and take the frustrated mutts for their routine walkies.

I had to think long and hard (ooerr missus) about reviving this thread, what with having misspelt 'Who'se' and I still haven't forgiven myself...
Rambling a bit which comes from battling the kind of hangover which be the result of the landlord saying "Play for another half hour and I'll cover your bar bill" (Yes still playing pubs and *not* being sniffy about it, Woodface!) Mrs Fatman is preparing herself to forgive me.
So. Yes. Rib of beef. Quick dash to Tesco this morning. Newky Brown 3 for £2 so I may drop off the radar later. Beef sitting on the side to get it to room temperature before throwing it in the oven just til it stops mooing.
It's been a great week for the Massive with successful mingles in Reading and Liverpool so we can all bask in the warm glow of community spirit as we tuck into our respective repasts. Even though I went to neither.
Then tomorrow Mrs Fatman and I are off to Hammersmith to see Gerry Rafferty. Bought the tickets six months ago. Can't wait. Nothing's gonna spoil my week.

with crackling this evening.

Free range, natch! Rubbed liberally with butter and a little oil, drizzled with lemon (half a lemon up the fundament another in the pan with two halves of a head of garlic, black pepper and lemon thyme. Roast King teds, parsnips, butternut pumpkin, carrots, broccoli, peas and a bit of mash.

The wine will be a 5 year old crianza preceeded by a bottle of dark chimay for the chef. (White wine's for girls and the gravy)

Don't know why because every time I eat it I say "Really should do this more often" as everyone says on the way out of a theatre...
Stop rambling.
Bon appetit, Bisto. Dare I ask about your gravy arrangements. Red currant jelly and balsamic glaze are the secret ingredients in mine. Did I say secret. Bollocks.

Scalded them quite badly.

...BASTARDS!

flavoured crisps and half a fruit shoot.
Although we do have some woodruff (sp?) flavoured jelly in the fridge. Whatever the fuck that is.

(yeh - I know - it's a big white thing in the kitchen used for keeping stuff cool.)

I'm gonna be doing Jamie's Beerbutt Chicken. It's very good.

The Recipe.
Preheat oven to 200C.
1 teaspoon each of crushed fennel seeds, crushed cumin seeds, smoked paprika, mild chilli powder and brown sugar. Salt and pepper. Make into paste with olive oil. Rub all over chicken in and out.
Sit bird on a half-full can of lager in a roasting dish. Give it about an hour and a half in the oven.
Eat.

You won't regret it.

Wasn't going to have Maltesers but the food machine in this strange office doesn't give change, robbing swine that they are.

However have left work now. I am sure the mammy will have something more substantial planned for din-dins. (I have already warned the Chubby Checkers I am not reporting in this week !)

Gnam gnam.

Albeit with chicken rather than turkey. We've made stuffing, got cranberry sauce, even some leftover Christmas crackers from the loft. No presents though. Can't have everything :-(