Bookends of a lonely winter’s night – Messrs Heinz and Crane

I had baked beans for dinner last night. I haven’t done that for ages.

When I got home, I got changed and took the little noir wizard out for his walk. It was much drier and even balmy last night, so I had little trouble responding to the wild enthusiasm he showed when I got home.

The milder weather meant I was more prepared for him to take his time and I didn’t hurry him along. I was in my tracky, a really old jumper and polo inside and in my daggy walking shoes. When I got home, there was nothing in the fridge which tempted me and I didn’t want to change to go out. I couldn’t think of any place to go in my haute couture (I wasn’t in a mood for KFC or anything like that) so I settled for Heinz’ Meanz Beanz.

I sat in front of the tele, had a bowl of baked beans in one hand and the laptop on… well, the lap, as I checked emails and stuff, ate and watched highlights of the Euro 2012 games. I had added some sweet chili sauce to the beans so it didn’t go down too badly. When finished, I worked on my discussion notes for the Friday group (my real reason for staying in). I left the tv on and did three things alternately – read Packer’s book, typed some notes and watched George and company screaming at chef wannabes thrashing food in the kitchen of the Shangri-La in Sydney.

Shang thrashed, notes done and the wizard fed, I turned off the laptop, poured myself a glass of red and just watched tv some more. I was switching between Simon Reeve’s Indian Ocean green travelogue on SBS and the footy (league) on Nine. The Blues won in Sydney, the Greens didn’t in the Indian Ocean but the true champion was the glass of red in my hand, the second of which had me watch Frasier. It was the episode where Niles and Daphne finally fessed up – on the eve of the latter’s wedding. Poor Donnie. I had watched this episode a few times now but it was still funny. Daphne’s family (what was the name of the Aussie actor) was a riot. Ugly riot but still a riot.

Baked beans and reruns of Frasier – such is the lot of a man left alone at home on a winter’s night.