I'm still your oven man

I don't mind the cold and rain where I'm waiting

I'm holding on to your mem'ry as tight as I can

And silver wings are bringing you back so I can hold you

And let me know that I'm still your oven man

It being the time of year, there is a beef stew meditating in the slow cooker as I type this. The idea is that it will help to take the chill off with a minimum of poncing about when I get in later, especially if I have the presence of mind to pick up some crusty bread on the way back and to leave the butter out of the fridge.

I've often thought that the trusty crock pot might be ideal for mulling wine. Perhaps I'll pick up some whole spices from the Sri Lankan at the bottom of the road and give that a crack as well.