A dream of light and night

There is this song I heard
It said that the dream was good
Because in it, you never said what I don’t want to hear

But like the old witch in the fairytale
It was also a clever
And told that the dream was bad, too
Despite the joy, nothing happens until I wake up

I liked that song
And I didn’t
But it served me a question
Whether I prefer the light of the day
Or belong in the darkness in which the dream resides

Why can’t I just stay here
In the twilight between the two?
Where it is light enough to show me where I need to be
Yet dark enough for the dream to linger

Where the stars still show on the velvet of the night
While the promise of the shiny day turns the morning to silver
And just wait there until the moment

When the night is bright enough
For me to see you
Day or night.

[Triggered by an eclectic mix of Danish rock music and Sonnet 43]

Photo by me.
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Music Learnings – aka Down the Rabbit Hole with Robyn and Alison Moyet

Robyn at Roskilde 2019; “Dancing On My Own”

Sometimes you have to go where your ear and randomness takes you. And once in a while you’ll learn something new about something old when you do.

Case in point: I was doing the cleaning up in the kitchen after a dinner of left-overs today; as always listening to some music on the Sonos system. A composite playlist of one of my own locally hosted playlists mixed up with a couple of Spotify lists (one of the features I love about the Sonos system, tha ability to mix sources at will – which has nothing to do with this story, actually).

At some point when I only have the stove to clean, Robyn’s “Dancing On My Own” comes up. Now, Dance Pop is generally not my thing – but I do make an exception for Robyn. As a Danish newpaper article said after her 2019 Roskilde Festival concert – she’s badass (and in a good way).

And that performance actually started the rabbit hole trip. ‘Cause I brought it up on the iMac – and yes, it’s every kind of wonderful and no, I wasn’t there that year. If I had been, I swear, I’d been singing my lungs out when the audience takes over that first chorus. So awesome.

But once I’d watched that, I sort of dived into the links column at the right. Uh oh – dangerous ๐Ÿ˜‰

And that got me to Alison Moyet singing “Only You” with a classical orchestra at a Burberry fashion show in 2016. She did that well. And somehow I felt an urge to look up the roots of that song – which in my mind is a 1984 song done by the Flying Pickets.

Oh no. Wrong. <sound of quiz programme “you’re out of here” buzzer>

“Only You” originally was done by Yazoo. Yep, “Don’t Go”. Know that one. Back on safe ground. Which was then fast yanked out under my feet when I dived further into Wikipedia and learned that Yazoo was … … … <drum roll> … Vince Clarke off Depeche Mode and, yes, Alison Moyet.


Never knew that.

But that explains why she sang it well ๐Ÿ˜‰

Just one more thing – when a song that is originally synth-pop can do well in an a capella version and also with classical strings and wind instruments? It’s because it is a song well written. Nice work, Vince Clarke.

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Whoa – back; but what has happened?

* Steely Dan; Hey Nineteen

Well, the short and long of it is that for a quite long time now, nothing happened – here, at least.

I’ve done some photography. With some luck, it has shown up in the sidebar in my absence to at least prvode some new content.

I’ve spent time doing some of my other freetime thingies – scouting, travelling (well … more about that below). I’ve kept up with my other social media presences on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook. Friends, things, stuff. And I’ve spent some time getting better at one of my other hobbies – playing Civilization 6 on rather high difficulties (Immortal, if you want to know).

And, sure, I’ve been cooking. I’ve been on my bicycle – more this summer than last, to be sure (and honest). As to the cooking, I gifted myself (and the kids) a MasterClass subscription and followed, especially, Gordon Ramsey.

Started out with the USAian chef Thomas Keller. But – his style is just not mine. Peeling green asparagus? Nope. And Ramsey wouldn’t – straight up said that that is where so much of the taste sits and by the way, it’s a waste. Much more my style.

So, I’ve been honing some skills. Taken mashed potatoes to 2.0 (DO watch Ramsey’s way of doing that! I won’t take it to puree – quite simply I prefer more rustic to very smooth and refined – but his infusing cream with crushed garlic, bay leaf etc is heavenly!). And, just today, made lemon salt. Talk about fragrance ๐Ÿ™‚

(when life gives you lemons – make lemon salt ๐Ÿ˜‰ )

Oh, and the travelling? Yes, the Covid-thing has largely grounded me. But sooo luckily we got a 5ยฝ week vacation in New Zealand done and got home threee working days before Denmark and Europe shut down.

But for work? 2 days this year – in January. Compared to 73 last year. Sigh. It is what it is and for a common good.

* Bette Midler; The Rose

And now I have 450 g of veal steak that I have to go and attend lovingly to. And some hasselback potatoes and pointed cabbage, drizzled with butter, grated grana (shoot me, I didn’t have parmesan) and the aforementioned lemon salt to keep eyes on in there in the oven.

See ya’ ๐Ÿ™‚

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Cobblestone Cooking Music XXXVIII – Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe

Just a quick usual disclaimer for whenever I do Italian cooking here – if your beloved Grandma from the sun-scorched hills in Umbria (or wherever) did this differently, this is not an attempt to cast spells on your family ๐Ÿ˜‰ Hey, I ‘m just a closet South European of a Dane who likes to cook…

All the music tonight is by Gladys Knight & the Pips. Because she turned up on a Spotify playlist – and because she’s headlining this summer’s Copenhagen Jazz Festival. And because we have tickets.

  • Smile
  • Midnight Train to Georgia

And then there is a quite other reason for writing this up after some hiatus. At work today, we had a Friday bar – a short get together over a single beer or glass of wine or a sparkling water. Happens on the first Friday of the month and is a lovely “hygge” (go look it up) thing.

  • Who Is She (And What Is She To You)
  • If I Were Your Woman

I got to speak to some colleagues who were joking that they were at the party now and didn’t intend to leave. I mentioned that I had to – as I’m doing the cooking in the household and I was sure that my wife, as well as myself, would like some dinner. To which someone retorted that if I cooked, I should of course also get a blog.

Yeah! ๐Ÿ˜‰

Right, Cacio e Pepe. Very, very simple dish – long, thin-ish pasta (we used a very regular spaghetti), black pepper (whole) and pecorino.

Get the pasta boiling. Take a decent amount of black peppercorn – say, a tablespoon for serving four – and give them a gentle whacking in a mortar or with the bottom of a small pot on a board. Just crack them open a wee bit.

  • I WIll Survive / Free Again
  • Bourgie’, Bourgie’

Put them on a dry pan, let them roast for a minute or two. Add a lump of butter and, when it’s done it’s initial sizzling, turn down the heat some and add a few spoonfuls of the pasta water. It’s needed in there to make the sauce and it stops everything from getting overly brown.

  • Still Such A Thing

Now, I often have issues with the cheese clumping – not Italian, recall? So today, I added a bit, let it melt, stirred it into the butter/water/pepper. Waited a bit, added som more cheese. And, at this time, some pasta water because it seemed the time to do so.

When the pasta’s not quite done yet, fish it out of the water and put it on the pan. Add cheese and pasta water (as needed, if needed) until you have that creamy consistency of a sauce surrounding the pasta.

  • Spoken Word
  • Taste of Bitter Love

Serve immediately on warm plates, sprinkling with parsley on the way. And drink a decent Italian red along with it.

No picture, sorry – wanted to serve it while hot.

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Words – did you take them?

You left
I miss you
Those two lines never made much good writing
Except for the odd blues song
That I am so far from being the right guy to do

But when I try to make something better of them
Add some eloquence
Put flesh on the ribs of those lines

The words aren’t there

Did you, by any chance, take them?
When you packed up your things to leave
Like, somehow slipped them into your suitcase?

Sure, I know, words are different from your shirts and shoes and perfumes
They don’t lie around in orderly bundles or stacks or sheaves
In the hallway cupboard
Or the second desk drawer

And yet
They left with you

Did you calmly walk around
Finding them, picking them out, extracting them?
Rounding them up?

Or did you do the Pied Piper trick
And made them walk after you in an orderly line?

It’s empty here
And it’s silent here

You left.
Without a word.

I found this in my Simplenote app. No idea when I wrote it or what promoted it. And as far as I can see, I haven’t posted it before.

It does link nicely to this one, though.

(And just for the sake of good order: Nobody just left me ๐Ÿ˜‰ )

Photo by me. Nearest thing I had that showed a void.
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What happened to them?

I really wanted to write something today

But the words didn’t come.

Did you take them with you when you left?

Note to anyone who may know me in person: no dramatic changes in my life, rest assured. As always, the writings here (that are not obviously about what’s going on) are fictional ๐Ÿ˜€

And now I have Jim Morrison’s “Did you have a good world when you died? Enough to base a movie on?” In my head. Such powerful stuff he wrote.

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New Tool in the Armoury

Exchanged a Christmas gift for this shiny beauty ๐Ÿ™‚ It said: “Caution, contains sharp items” on the box. No sh*t, Sherlock…

OK, it is just one blade. But it made me think of Dire Straits’ ” Six Blade Knife” anyway. And now that one is stuck in my head. Worth it.

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Why First Now?

See? Perfect bacon. And nothing what so ever stuck on the pan…!

I now have a cast iron pan.

And after using it only three times, I’m thinking of it’s predecessors –

If you, if you could return
Don’t let it burn
Don’t let it fade
I’m sure I’m not being rude
But it’s just your attitude
It’s tearing me apart
It’s ruining every day
For me
I swore I would be true
And fellow, so did you
So why were you holding her hand?
Is that the way we stand?
Were you lying all the time?
Was it just a game to you?
But I’m in so deep
You know I’m such a fool for you
You’ve got me wrapped around your finger
Do you have to let it linger?
Do you have to, do you have to, do have to let it linger?

In other words, I don’t need to occupy myself with the memory of the ever so “nothing will stick to this” surfaces of the previous ones. My first thing on this was a Danish thing called “krebinetter” – basically, breaded minced meat. Prone to stick. And – it just didn’t.

Yes, I conditioned the pan. Even if the paperwork that came with it said that it had been done. I did like this.

And yes, you have to do the cleaning right and do a little bit of maintenance. But I swear, it’s worth it.

Now, I have these larger pans that are wearing out…

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First Frost of the Year

First frosty morning
Winter’s welcoming us with
Brillant crisp beauty

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Unexpected Dance

Your eyes were blue and full of light
Making this more than just a night
And while we danced I saw just that
Your eyes were blue and full of light
The smile, the touch, the tit for tat
They held me close – I only know
Your eyes were blue and full of light
Making this more than just a night.


Man, I have written very little here lately. Basically, I’m in some kind of period without that many words.

What does happen is some photography – so hopefully, you enjoy the sideshow.

This is a deliberate attempt to write a triolet. It won’t win me any Nobel prizes in literature – but there is a certain satisfaction in seeming to have wrestled the rhythm and rhyming pattern and not lose all meaning in the process.

And there’s a memory of a swell evening in good company in there ๐Ÿ˜€

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