black, gold.

Above: New Year's Eve. There may have been drinking involved.

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Prepare for controversy: I like that the British don't have any problem inventing unappetizing names for their food. I mean, I know we're separated by a common language and everything, but it's almost like they derive a perverse pleasure from it.

Case in point: last night Mara made a totally delicious traditional English dessert that is basically like a hot muffin with sweet gooey syrup on top, great stuff. What is it called? Treacle sponge, something with which you might scrub your baseboards.

I don't have time to offer a comprehensive list, but: toad in the hole, spotted dick, scotch egg, clotted cream, mushy peas, etc. I'd be interested in hearing any more you've got.

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Even though we're officially on a tragic, tragic pork vacation, this looks like a perfect, possible-in-Europe pulled pork recipe.

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And meanwhile, while other people are pulling their pork, making treacle sponges and having other sorts of unbridled fun, I'm holed up in an office down the hall with this ugly-ass guitar, unshowered, unshaven, uncontactlensed, uneverything.