Floating Islands

Not a good week at work. Pretty stressful, and Friday was the worst. Some dude in the office had a birthday and I had to go across town to collect the cake, taking it back to the office on the Tube was a nightmare. I gave up my seat for a Little Old Lady (LOL) and that's when the fun started, crazy people shoving me and flashing their bum cracks. Obviously mid day on a Friday is the best time to go Christmas shopping. And who knew that December was the best time of year for skinny jeans and ironic cropped t-shirts. For a guy!
So you know, by the time I got home I was a broken woman. Even a few rounds of my typical Family Friday game of 'How Much Will You Give Me To Drink This Whole Bottle Of...' with my brother didn't do much to cheer me up, so finally I've had to resort to this -

A girl at work lent me Larousse Gastronomique with a specific recommendation to make Floating Islands. Tell me it doesn't look intimidating! This is not so much a cook book as an encyclopedia of virtually every dish and cooking technique ever. I've seen this baby in a few bookshops, but have always been a little too shy to buy, but hopefully this recipe with it's total of 4 ingredients won't present me with too much difficulty.
First, the islands. I'm not going to put up recipes anymore as I'm assuming that eventually it will get me into some kind of copyright trouble, so I'll have to describe the process in more detail.

So, unlike my usual way of making meringues you are instructed to whip the egg whites and fold the sugar in afterwards, um... okaaay? Next poach in boiling milk and drain on a clean kitchen cloth. If you scroll down a bit you'll see that my 'islands' are under attack from some kind of Biblical plague of locusts - that's the vanilla seeds that escaped from the pod into the milk. Nice. I couldn't be bothered to crack the glass of my scanner by heaving this cinder block of a book on to it, but trust me when I say that it's not supposed to look like that in the proper one. Nevermind, right? Onwards and upwards?
I've attempted making my own custard (Creme Anglaise, whatever tomato/tomato) once and it turned out more akin to scrambled eggs. What made me think I could do it this time? (Just for the record, it doesn't say anywhere in the recipe that you should drink a bottle of Courvoisier before you start).
Result: Well the crystal dish looks nice, right? The floating balled up Kleenex, I mean islands, taste like egg whites. The sugar didn't take, and neither did the taste of vanilla, plus they collapsed into pathetic, quivering blobs, whereas in the book each is a handsome puffy orb, drizzled delicately with caramel.
I didn't make any caramel to pour lovingly on top of this mess because the magnolia paint, I mean Creme Anglaise, that is supporting this science experiment was insanely, ridiculously sweet. To be fair the taste wasn't bad at all, it was just the texture. Eager to avoid the mistake I made on my other, and only attempt of thickening sauce with egg, I over whisked the bastard and instead of thickening to a lovely pouring consistency it separated into some kind of flavoured whipped air on top and stupid, yellow milk on the bottom.

Annie, next time you describe something as 'delicious, and so easy!' make sure you're referring to making toast or munching on an apple or something, deal?