Ren co-chummaltagh aym faagail y thie noght, erreish da tree bleeantyn cummal marym. Va fys aym dy yinnagh rish meeghyn, agh ta ennaghtyn quaagh 'sy chooid ny yei shen. T'ou uss çheet dy ve ainjyssagh rish sleih ayns lheid y traa, as ta'n thie beggan lomarcan nish - ga dy vel co-chummaltagh elley ayns shoh foast. Nagh quaagh eh yn aght ta assaaraght ny red fondagh ny keayrtyn?
Ta'n "oast" ain nyn goonceil chillagh, as she "traa dy liooar" y fockle arrey oc son y chooid smoo, agh by vie lhieu dy voin ynnydagh jee dy leah. T'ad gra "veagh Jerrey Geuree dy mie" - wahll, daue, foddee. Cha nel mee son goaill toshiaght co-akin as surranse peiagh ennagh ymmyrkey stiagh 'sy traa tarroogh shoh roish y Nollick - va boirey dy liooar ayn hannah mleeaney!
Er cooish elley, ren Pear loayrt er bee as ymmyrkey geuree, as dooyrt mee dy nee caashey greddan eh y reih vee-gerjee aym. Shoh heese ny share lhiam:
Yiar mee daa veer d'arran oarlagh er çheeid, as ad y ghreddaney rish thurrick do veagh eh brishlagh (agh myr vaikys oo, foddee, ta'n arran shoh greddaney dy tappee). She arran gyn enney v'ayn, chionnee mee eh voish Sainsburys er lhiam, agh va breck resh lus y chadlee ooilley harrish. Eisht yiar mee Red Leicester 4-5 millimeadar e.ç. as eh y laaraghey er yn arran. Ersyn skeayll mee beggan Cheddar lajer, er son aalid as anaase blassagh. Er y derrey yeh vreck mee pibbyr doo, as er y jeh elley druight ny marrey as teim, er lhiam. Myr glasseraght, vroie mee carnane caaylagagh: y reih ghlasserey aym, s'cosoylagh. Son y chooid smoo ta mee gaarlaghey daa ny tree glassraghyn, agh er lhiam dy vel caashey greddan ny lhongey neuchrampit as glen; share dou gyn milley feerid ny beaghey liorish mestey rouyr blassyn aynsyn.
(As per, this is a broadly similar rewrite, not a translation. Translating is hard.)
My old, established housemate has just moved out, and left the place feeling pretty odd somehow. It's that weird point where absence feels like a presence, if that makes sense. My other housemate's still around though. I've know for ages she'd be moving out to bigger and better things (and cheaper housing, I suspect) but it still takes some adjusting to.
The "landlord" - actually a church owns my house, but it's not much different from any landlord - are normally very laid-back, but have started saying it'd be nice to get a new tenant by January. Not for me, it wouldn't. There's been quite enough kerfuffle and stress this year without trying to cram in interviews and yet another bout of disruption to the house before Christmas. Also I'd rather not have (potentially) a new housemate left on their own during Christmas after very little time in the house. Next year's time enough.
Moving on, Pear talked about winter food and habits and I mentioned I like slabs of cheese on toast, which in my idiolect I call "mak". The pic above shows a prime example I made this week.
It's a couple of inch-thick slabs of some bread I picked up in... Sainburys?... with poppy seeds on, not that that matters. I toasted it for half a minute to get it a bit crisp, although it turns out it toasts very quickly as you may see. I put a layer of Red Leicester 4-5mm thick on it, then spread a bit of strong Cheddar for interest and colour. I put black pepper on one slice, and (I think) rosemary and thyme on the other. I had a mound of sprouts for vegetables, they being my favourite and newly available. Normally I make a few veg with any meal, but I appreciate cheese on toast as a simple, well-defined meal and I don't like diluting that by throwing in a lot of different flavours.
It was beast.