Beyond the Burrow

• My sister and her husband celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary. We go to The Warrington Arms, Gordon Ramsey's pub in Maida Vale.

• Being a mere rodent & a peasant one at that, I am less than enthusiastic.

• We have an enjoyable evening. The food is tasty, but…

• The main 'but' is portion size-related. Essentially, you get more food if you order from the kids' menu than if you order from the adults' set menu (you get most food if you order a la carte).

• This doesn't bother me too much (though I suspect that I'm served so little venison because most of it has disappeared up its own arse).

• Mr Coypu calls the waiting staff over & explains that he hasn't been given enough food for a man. He asks why they've bothered putting so few potatoes on his plate? Why not just forget them altogether?

• I point out that they're not potatoes but baby turnips (like these ones, but cooked, cut in half & arranged artfully around the sea salmon fillet).



• The waitress explains gently that portions are small because they are from the set menu. Neither Mr Coypu, nor I (nor, indeed, the waitress), feel this is a satisfactory explanation.

• Because Mr Coypu complains about not having enough dinner, my sister gets extra cheese for pudding. She is especially partial to the Stinking Bishop.

In the Burrow

• It is Thursday night. I am, frankly, knackered & fall into bed deliciously early, having earlier fallen asleep in the Coypette's bed giving her a bedtime cudle.

• I am woken by my mobile doing its drum & piano thing to tell me a text has arrived. It is 4.45am. Who the hell?

• It is Mr Coypu's sister, to invite us to two events the following week. I cannot get back to sleep. I am not happy.

• Some hours later, I text Mr Coypu's sister. I thank her for her invitation & the early morning alarm text. I also ask her to email me at times when I'm likely to be asleep, unless it's about birth, death or urgent hospitalisation.

• I get a text back asking me why I don't turn my phone off if I'm asleep…

In the Burrow

• The douche is leaking. I discover this when I notice water seeping out under the bathroom wall onto the landing. I put a towel under where the valve is leaking, then forget to change it later. So, once the towel is soaked through, the water resumes its seepage out to the landing.

• Mr Coypu is not happy. I am not happy.

• The douche may be more trouble than it's worth.

OOoh look! I'm risen incorruptible…

• I go to the Coliseum - I love the Coliseum for its stunning acoustics – for Deborah Warner's take on Handel's Messiah, accompanied by a friend.

• As one would expect of the ENO, the singing is breathtaking (esp Sophie Bevan & Brindley Sherratt), so is the orchestra.

• What the staging lacks in subtlety it makes up for in fake blood. My companion was disappointed that the Hallelujah chorus was a tad underpowered & that it looked like a corporate golfing weekend. I thought it was more like a Barmitzvah, what with everyone shaking hands and, apparently, congratulating each other.

• Some people came out moved to tears, but I wasn't the only one giggling when, to the lyric ' The trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised, the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed ' Ms Bevan got up from the hospital bed, where she had recently died (she had a drip and a sheet over her face), looked around, and someone came over & gave her some flowers & a cardi. And all the rest of the chorus got up from the perspex plinths on which they'd being lying (dead), with expressions on their faces that clearly read 'Oooh! Look at me. I'm risen incorruptible.'

• Meanwhile, Ms Bevan put her cardi over her hospital gown. And lo. She was changed!

In the Burrow

• I return home to a Coypette who's completed her maths homework unsupervised, practised the piano &, sporting an apron, is leading a small team (consisting of herself & Mr Coypu) cooking delicious fish pie. Suspect I've stumbled into an alternate reality.

Delicious fish pie (& broccoli). I e' aw o' it.

• The builders return to relocate the TV & some furniture as per our incomplete instructions. The TV & sofa are now on opposite sides of the dining table: also there's a stray kitchen unit in the midst of the living room.

stray kitchen cabinet trying to look indispensible

• In case you're wondering, the stray kitchen cabinet is wearing a sky+ box & a DVD player, a DVD & a dustbuster. It is obviously trying to charm us out of freecycling it. We will not be manipulated in this manner.

• If anyone out there needs or wants a passive aggressive kitchen cabinet (its drawers are cream in real life) please let me know…

In the Burrow

• The Wise Old Coypu comes to visit before heading off on his travels. Mr Coypu cooks what he claims is soup, but looks & tastes suspiciously like stew.

• Over lunch, the subject of Christmas tea comes up, along with the possibility that the Dowager Lady Coypu might join us. Remembering the DLC's love of vols aux vent (sp? vol au vents?), the WOC suggests that if she is coming, we might get some in, specially.

'I can't remember the last time I saw a vol au vent,' remarks the WOC pensively.

'No… Perhaps they went out with the dildos,' suggests Mr Coypu, confusing extinct birds with sex toys.

Laugh if you like, but that dodo fucking hurts.

Beyond the Burrow

• I leave the burrow illegitimately early & cycle to the RCA Secret sale. I queue from 6.30am to 10.45am & chat with 2 civil servants, 1 Bank of England Auditor, 1 civil servant's daughter, a man who does accounts for a computer games company, a junior doctor fresh from operating on the gangrenous toes of diabetics & a butler (clarification: I chat with a butler: he is not, as far as I know, fresh from being operated on by the jnr dr).

• I have lots of fun, learn a little about visual art & buy these.

Chris Mercier

I choose this for its precision, subversive humour & ambiguity: does it say 'Cake' or 'Caka'? I think both.

Sophia Malig

I choose this for its cleanliness, its disorder within order & the potential for sprouting wildness & unpredictability fenced into those bourgeois little (Pandora-ish) boxes

Olenna Mokliak

I choose this for its delicate, feathery beauty.

• Later, I take them to be framed & show the man in the frame shop (Thou Art in Hampstead) how to use his phone.

• Then I buy a new cat flap.