Alright Mr Borge

You want me to go cook something Mr Paulie?
Fine. Cue home-made bolognese.
Fresh parsley, very fresh bay leaf (as in taken off a tree about half an hour before), crushed garlic, beef stock, diced bacon, carrot, celery, chopped tomatoes, baby onion, red wine (with what didn't go in the pan providing an appropriate apertif) mince, and a couple of other things (I think) chucked in a large pan and simmered down for 40 minutes. Throw in some butter-fried leeks and a bed of tagliatelle and cue inability to move off the sofa for at least half an hour.
I know it's hardly Gordon Ramsay but hey one has to start somewhere. But not a jar of anything in sight. Now here's the difference between Paulie and I. He takes photos of it on his plate. Forget that for a laugh. I'm only interested in eating it when it gets on my plate. But just for you, have a photo of it cooking ;-)

In the meantime, who needs posh cat toys? I have just spent the last 30 minutes laughing a heck of a lot running around the flat holding a piece of string, with the latter being hotly pursued by a nutcase cat. Here, I have just tied the string round the doorknob and given it a twitch, and she's off. I have a feeling when she is let out we are going to have a frequent supply of small and possibly large captured creatures. She discovered a daddy long legs yesterday which was vigourously pursued around the living room. Crazy mog