Salade niçoise

Des fois mon père m'envoie des photos de ce que mes parents ont mangé. Il y a quelques temps, c'était cette salade niçoise. Bon, une photo sans doute plus estivale, mais qu'importe. J'ai découvert la salade niçoise, assez ironiquement, ici en Angleterre. Ils l'appellent "tuna niçoise". Plus précisément, c'est grâce àmon beau-frère que je l'ai remarquée: il l'a commandée une fois lors d'une réunion familiale. C'est pas mal ce que je commande quand je veux manger santé. Ce qui est rarement le cas quand je suis dans un restaurant.

Greggs for lunch

Remember when I gave myself Friday treats? Well I started the tradition again today, as I bought myself a tuna baguette from Greggs. We have one Greggs shop in town, I know it's a chain (on principle I prefer to support local businesses), but we might as well make the best of it. As I mentioned in this post from 2017, my very first lunch in the UK, back in 1999, was a sandwich from Greggs. So it has a special place in my heart.

The sandwiches at Greggs

I had wanted to blog about it a while ago, but never got round to it until now. Anyway, our little posh town last year (I think it was last year) got a Greggs counter in one of our petrol station. Sometimes, you don't need much to be happy, or at least to be contented. And this is what happens when I eat something from Greggs. It is one of my guilty pleasures. So when I am both hungry and lazy, I buy myself a tuna sub like the one you see on the picture. This goes way back and it has something to do with my first time in England as a resident. Back in 1999, when I came here to do my Master degree, my very first lunch in England was a tuna sandwich from Greggs. At that time, it was a tuna sandwich and the bread was a bloomer, but still. Nothing tastes like comfort and security like these. So every time I eat a sandwich from there, I think about that first lunch.

Odin on my mind

I probably sound like a broken record, but there you go. Maybe it is because this month was our meeting anniversary, maybe because I see cats very often these days, but I am thinking a lot about Odin these days. I miss him a lot. I even started craving fish and chips, maybe because this is what I was carrying back when I met him. It struck me that he did not have yet his Viking's funeral. The ashes of my black cat with one eye are still on the bookshelf. I should really do it, make a nice ceremony and all, but I cannot bring myself to do it. Maybe only when I will leave this place. I have decided that when this happens, when I do leave the flat, I will then adopt another cat, preferably a black cat. For the reasons listed on this post. In the right time and the right place. Until then, and until I blog about him again, here is a still (I think) unpublished picture of Odin, when I gave him tuna for the first time.

The mystery of Odin the cat revealed

I hope my readership does not mind another post about Odin in such short period of time (last one was two days ago). I had an evening that was both sad and happy. Happy because when I got home, I saw Odin waiting for me. Well, he was waiting for someone, maybe not me especially, but anyway. After a few minutes of me stroking him and him rubbing against my legs and purring a lot, I gave him his usual tuna, as he was obviously expecting it. He ate it eagerly and I think he could have eaten more. I cannot adopt Odin, as I live in an attic flat, but I thought I could certainly ease his life and become friend with him (gosh I sound like a crazy cat lady). I even bought a bit of cat food to vary his diet a bit. Since I first met him, I always thought he was a feral cat that had it rough: the fact that he has one eye and plenty of scars and no collar made it quite obvious to me.

But later on, the mystery of Odin was revealed, at least partially: as I was walking in the street near home, there was a couple outside, the front door of their house open as they were putting some stuff in their car parked on the street. Odin suddenly walked out of the house, to the utter indifference of its owners. He was not an intruder, he was certainly welcome there, so I think it is safe to say that he has masters, or that he is their master (as cats own you more that you own them). I wish they had given him a collar, I wouldn't have felt so sad seeing him getting out of their house. It still does not explain the glass eyes and the scars. Maybe they adopted him properly and Odin is really a feral cat they found on the street. Anyway, Odin was still waiting by the door minutes later and still asked for some more cuddles. So I have a friend. And of course I will feed him some more.

Odin the wandering black cat

Odin the one eyed black cat was back this evening. He was here last week, Monday and Tuesday, he did not show up for the rest of the week, or not that I know anyway. But he was here this evening, I saw him crossing the road from the window, so I rushed downstairs with what was left of tuna. There was actually quite a lot left of tuna. He ate the first bit with good appetite, then I offered him more and he was more hesitant to eat. He was very eager for cuddles though, rubbing himself against me, purring when I stroke him. He has not bit or clawed me once so far. Strange feral cat. More and more I think his name is well deserved: not only does he have one eye, but he has white hairs among his black fur. Odin seems to be an old wanderer, like his namesake.

The return of Odin

I have blogged a few times about Odin the black cat that comes around here sometimes. I christened him Odin as he has one eye, like the king of the Norse gods. I had not seen him in a long while and tonight, when I was walking back from work, he was there, as if he had been waiting for me.Tonight, I have decided to feed him, as I am not sure he has so many full meals. He must be naturally an adequate hunter, but with one eye to see, you never know. I gave him part of the content of a tin of tuna. he ate it eagerly. When I first met him, he was after my fish and chips. I had felt guilty about not feeding him then. As I cannot adopt Odin, I will at least try to become friend with him and show him and give him some treat. I don't think he had it easy, with all the scars he has.

Le poisson du Vendredi saint

Ce n'est pas tout à fait: cette photo n'a pas été prise un Vendredi saint. Elle a été prise lors de ma fête l'année dernière, c'est un steak de thon avec frites et sans doute l'un des meilleurs steaks de thon que j'aie mangés. Alors bref, on est Vendredi saint, ce qui veut dire: 1)que je suis en congé et 2)que je mange traditionnellement du poisson. Comme j'ai décidé que j'en avais ma claque des bagels anglais, qui sont en fait des beignes pas sucrés, alors le traditionnel bagel au saumon fumé que je mangeais d'habitude, je me suis décidé de le manger uniquement à Montréal.

Alors donc, il me reste à me trouver un poisson du souper de ce soir... Je songe sérieusement à m'acheter un steak de thon et de le manger bien poivré. Avec des frites et de la mayonnaise. Ca fait un bail que je n'ai pas apprêté de poisson. Je pourrais bien acheter un fish and chips, mais j'en ai mangé vendredi dernier, alors je veux varier un peu. Ah! Le maigre jeûne!