17th May - After Review - Cleaning out

Oh. He hadn't meant it like that at all. His sisters ahd always told him he'd get into trouble, trying to be funny. How best to deal with it?

"Sorry laddie, i didna mean fer ye ter take it seriously, that. But there, tis me own fault forgettin ter smile at ye, later, ter tell ye plainly 'twas me trying ter be funny."
He stopped andturned to look hopefully at willoughby, trailing behind looking most dejected, "Come and this time, I shall get ye ter help with t'process, if ye so choose."

Willoughby's face brightened, the worry there gone. He'd thought Sinclair was a good actor, and he decided now, that he was not solely good, but too good. He nodded in agreement, glad that there were no ill feelings between them. There had been a few occasions before in which his mouth had gone where it shouldn't have and that might've prompted him to react so quickly, without thinking.

"Is all good. " He felt relieved. "I'd be glad to learn a thing or two, too. " He added, thinking that cooking might yet save his life, or atleast his taste.

His face relaxed to a smile as he jumped into his little 'house', rattling the cupboards in the hope of finding something interesting, or at least suitable.
"Tatties are here, clearly, and a maize, along with some dried meat of some discription...and more fresh mushrooms and onions than ye could shake a stick at."

He peered round the cupboard door, "There's some bread, too, and oats. What would ye like ter have, now?"

"Uh...." He paused and shrugged. "...I think I'll leave that decision to you sir." He wasn't one keen on throwing much food together to make a dish, though he'd eaten well when he was younger. It was just that others had prepared it for him and all he needed was to sit behind the table and eat.

"It would be a safer bet.. and less of a laugh." For his choice, possibly.

"Now would I laugh at ye? i would suggest something else, mebbe."
He stood back to peer at the supplies again. "SOmething simple, I think, and ye can cook. Here's a knife, and some onions. If ye would be so kind as ter peel them?"

Further rumaging produced some butter, which he set aside as he tipped water into a pan and left it to boil, setting aside the maize. "D'ye like mushrooms?" Deftly he began cutting the meat into cubes.

"Yes, they are good. I would like them." He smiled and began to peel the onions first. "Do you need them cut as well?" He asked as most of the dry material was removed.

He turned briefly to Sinclair and watched him cut at the meat and then turned to his onion, waiting so patiently.

(time for this one to go sleep! oops! XD)

(fair enough. till next time!)

"In cubes if ye would, instead o'rings. Then ye can begin on them mushrooms."
He turned to check the water, then remembering a watche dpot never boils, he wrecked havok on the meat instead, waiting somewhat impatiently.
THe sparrow, inquisitive as ever, was perched on the chair back, and hopped to start playing round with the onion skins.

"Cubes, sure." He began cutting at the onion, not at quite a fast pace. The cubes themselves , once they formed, were of different sizes and frustrated Willoughby a small bit. Or was it perhaps that the onion made eyes sting and he began to blink and blink again, trying to look at what he was doing and then up, as his eyes watered.

"Sir." He began and was about to reach up with his hand to rub his eyes. The little bird observed for a few moments before she returned to her new toys for the moment.

"AYe?" He looked up and immediatly grabbed the rising arm, "Twill just make it worse, laddie. Yer'll be gettin onion all through ye eye. pop yerself outside for a moment while I get them a-cooking."

A heated pan, suitably greased, waited for the onions and he set them to sizzling, finishing off the chopping himself.
"I didna realise ye would be so affected. ALthough, they're strong onions, to be sure." His own eyes were watering a little, whether in response or in sympathy he didn't know.

"..I just haven't expected it." He said apologetically, and blinked a couple of times, waiting for his eyes to clear. He was glad that the man had stopped him, for if the onion's essence would've gotten into his eyes, he expected, it would only hurt so much more.

"Sorry, sir." He murmured and glanced at the pan, where the onions were now making their final stand.

"Ye dinna spend much of yer time chopping onions, then? Though these ones are stronger than t'ones back home."

He prodded them, taking pride in turning them clear instead of brown, before turning to complete the meat.
"THere's nowt ter apologise fer, laddie. Many a person will have t'same problem." He pulled off his own glasses to run a wrist over his watery eyes.
"Now how about ye get onter them mushrooms again?"

"Well, as I've told you. I haven't done much cooking no. And by how unskilled I be in it, the food would be best eaten raw, I'm sure." He shrugged.

"You want to have mushrooms cut as well, yes? In what manner do you need them sliced then? " And he didn't expect mushrooms to cause any sort of harm the onions did. Unless Sinclair has found some truly odd, mysterious sorts.

"THese onion raw, I wouldna recomend them." He'd eaten raw onions of course, but they weren't the strong type cooking at his elbow.

Gently he shooed the sparrow off his chair, letting him move it and peer at the water, which was starting to show little bubbles. A dash of salt and the maize was poured in, while he rummaged for his wooden spoon.

"Imagine it on yer plate, laddie. They'll be mixed with t'meat and onions ter go in this pot" he tapped the water, "so not too small, but not halves, either."

"Alright. You just stop me, if I do them too small, or too big." He said as he began to cut each of the mushrooms in succession. He watched as the bird made its way closer to the pan and hoped it wouldn't think to take a too close a look and fall in. "Shoo, Oy! Isn't anything for you in there!"

The maize was nice and thick now, so he added the butter and stirred only a little. The onions he removed, almost singeing the ball of fluff, which had decided it wasnted some food too and was flying round trying to work out what to do about it.

"ye can try some porridge, like all good creatures." he grumbled at it, draining off the small amount of hot water in the top of the pan and keeping it in a cup with a sprinkle of oats. "and if ye dinna like it, ye'll nae be staying here."

Timothy watched their feathered friend and just hoped they might not soon find her nicely cooked and crispy. The bird was asking for it, there was no doubt in that, but why go for meat, or that sort of food at all? Didn't birds eat insects and seeds?

"Oy, come here." He said as he'd finished cutting the mushrooms up and laid the knife down. He held his hand out to the bird, dearly hoping she would heed his request.

"If ye will be asking her ter come, see if she willna try some of this, too."
There was plenty of other food he'd try her on, but if she could share his own staple he'd be happy. Until he ran out, of course, and switched to something else.

"Those mushrooms seem done enough. Now all there's to't is ter wait." He smiled at the advances of the bird, who seemed happy enough to move towards willoughby, "I see there'll be nae need ter find other amusement fer a while, then."

"..Oh, amusement now, am I?" Willoughby shook his head and waited for the bird to come close enough to land on his hand and then wondered if he could amuse her as one did a cat. But a bird,.. well one didn't see a bird rolling around pawing at a string, that was for sure.

"Sir,.. is there anything else you might need me to do, what cooking is concerned?"

"Seem ter remember last time ye had me a-playin tunes fer ye amusement. this time, ye shall amuse me."
Determined he sat himself down, as intrigued with watching as, no doubt, any visitors would be.

"All we are doing now is waiting, then ye may add t'cubes inter t'pot"

(huzzah. we just had an earthquake. strangely you could hear this one coming. normally you can't.... I'm guessing it was about 5.6)

( O.O... . uh, how did it feel?)

"You wish me to sing then? Oh I do hope you do not expect me to act as a mother to this prickly fledgling!" He eyed the bird, and moved her again from the closeness of his ear. But she seemed keen on approaching it and just hopped over his hand, chirping as she went.

(boring. it lasted less than 10 sec. The only exciting thing was the noise.)

"I willna need ye ter sing, or this one'll be trying all night." he nodded at the chirping bundle of feathers hopping all over the man opposite. At least it wasn't all over his table.

"I shall have ter find some goods ter create a home fer it...I think maybe fixing a hook outside will answer well."

He twisted in his seat to peer at the pot and give it a stir, stopping it from burning.

( Lol.. Ok, move to somewhere VERY high, or someplace that has marshy land under you. Then it won't be as boring to you, though you probably won't hear it that much? XD)

"She looked most keen on collecting your hair, so perhaps some of those things can be strands for her? She'll be forever greatful, I'm sure." He looked at the bird, glanced to the pot to see what Sinclair was doing, and then caught the little feathered thing before she decided to make a dive for the rather good smelling food.

(I'm on top of a hill. I quite like quakes, until they collapse buildings on me.)

"If ye think I'll be giving up my hair fer a bird, laddie, ye'll be sadly mistook."
he stood and leant accross to fend o fthe bird, "Lasdie, gae in t'corner, ay?"

Again he tapped the mushrooms, "ye asked ter help, laddie, so ye can be pouring t'meat, onions and mushrooms inter t'pot, and getting t'plates and a fork out each."

(... rofl, oh dear. I wouldn't have thought to hear that one! Do you have many then?)

"Allright sir. " He said and took the said ingredients as mentioned , carrying them to the pot. He waited for a moment to have Sinclair out of the way before tipping all into the pot, and having it stir a little.

"Plates then, sir. Where do you have them?" He asked as he turned from the food. "And cutlery, the same?"

(not too often, or at least, not bad ones. The worst i've had would be when I was in a hut cooking on gas next to the lit fire...a good days walk from anywhere.)

"In t'cupboard there." he gestured to his right, shifting his chair further out of the way and sitting on it.
"Yer lucky I did t'dishes this morning, too. And how's that ankle of yourn?"