And Then Just A Label…

   Whilst rummaging in the kitchen cupboard in preparation for sandwich building yesterday, the labelling on the wrapper of the main ingredient jumped out at me for reasons not yet fully understood but probably triggered by the state of things out there. And that labelling was on the wrapper wot’s wrapped round the sliced bread.
   This labelling describes the contents thereof but is it, in these weird times wot we’re suffering, also a dig aimed at a goodly big number of their customers as well? And that labelling was? Soft White, THICK. There’s a message in the package eh?
   Subliminal messaging?  Try this then. Headphones advised if you're in company with any Timidadians, okay?

Quote; Craig D. Lounsbrough.

“A label locks me into a definition that people use to control me. A vision graces me with an idea that serves to release me.”

And Then, Not Available….

   Out and about a little today despite the horror weather warnings. On the way home we spotted a McDonald burger joint and thought I, why not? Just for me you understand as they still don’t do chicken feet with rice. Pulled in, went in and ordered a double mouse burger with cheese. This was greeted with sideways glances and muffled chuckles. End result? Not available at that joint...
    I did however have another young person and proper money adventure - of sorts.
    I ordered wot I wanted, less mice, and being the stuck in the past old fellow I be, handed over real money. This was in the form of a ten pound note. The change due, wot shows on the young ladies till, was a tad less than a five pound note so this young person - and I’m not making this up - had to look at every one of ‘em regardless of the shape, size or colour of the coins, to confirm the value as stamped on each and every coin. There did follow a double check of course. End result? I won a penny...

Quote; Robin McKinle.

“Mice are terribly chatty. They will chat about anything, and if there is nothing to chat about, they will chat about having nothing to chat about. Compared to mice, robins are reserved.”

And Then, Silence...

Oops! We forgot to shut-up to show our support for a country wot’s run along similar lines to that bunch we spent a few years fighting back in the nineteen-forties; funny old world is it not?
   In other ‘news’ it seems there’s a shortage of tomatoes and other vegetables an’ such.
   So, there’s a bit of a war going on, apparently, now food shortages. Ration books incoming you think? Oh, wait, that Phoney Blur and friends are close to introducing Digital ID. That’ll work and make my post regards personal privacy look like small beer. You try buying two tomatoes when ‘they’ know one will do and see the trouble you land in...
   Fifteen minute cities? Hell, they know where we are now. You think that Sat Nav thingy only works one way? Couple that with Digital ID and wot do you get?
‘Warning! You have driven over half your daily allotted  allowance. You only have enough points left to get home before your vehicle is remotely disabled and you become liable for the cost of recovery of said vehicle. Be aware this is your second distance limit warning in two months; one more will result in confiscation of said vehicle.’
   Anyhoo, wot will food rationing, however it’s introduced, do to food banks? On the plus side it may help to trim a phew pounds off they nurses wot we see on TV crying as they don’t know wot to do, eat or eat – sorry, heat or eat.

Quote;  Harvey Fierstein.

“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life, but define yourself.”

And Then Something Bugs Me...

   I’m sure you haven’t failed to see the repeated mentions on the media that we should all start eating bugs to save the planet, right?
   So wot’s bugging me regards this?
   Well, so, correct me if I’m wrong but, up until quite recently, weren’t we informed on every garden and nature TV program of the alarming decline in bugs and the risk of their extinction owing to climate change? Followed by all the ways we could attract bees an’ bugs back into our gardens thus enabling them to survive and thrive? Or was that the subtle start of the main message which will slowly{?} change to attracting bugs into our gardens thus ensuring we have something for lunch? Now over to our bug-cook in the studio...
   As a by-the-by, where are the Save Our Crickets protesters then?
   And yes, I have, in a time long, long ago in a land far, far away, tried fried grass hoppers. Wot do they taste like? Damned if I remember but wot I do remember is  a pair of nibbles was enough.

Quotes;  Vera Nazarian.

“I've just been bitten on the neck by a vampire... mosquito. Does that mean that when the night comes I will rise and be annoying?”

And Then, Food...

   Whilst out and about for no reason other  than to be out and about, as lunch time approached and we were close to a favourite, large chain eatery we decided to call in.
   We haven’t eaten there since early after being released from house arrest during the scam-demic.
   As we entered it became apparent how the constantly media ‘reporting’ of the cost of living crisis is biting home. Yup, the place was full and we were lucky to get the one table not prebooked ‘till five that evening.
   However, after ordering our two meals, side salads and  fizzy water, things changed. The same order last visit after release from house arrest cost eighteen pounds and change. Yesterday for exactly the same order? Twenty six pounds and change...
   Guess who was taken aback? Yup, my little nest of vipers as, while on the way there, declared she’d pay as an early birthday treat for me. Oh how I tried, to no avail, to stifle my mirth.
   With mention of the scam-demic and questions now being asked in high places regards the safety of that experimental chemi cocktail, and that won’t be allowed to go anywhere will it, let’s have wot should be the seasons number one;

Quote;  Kevin Alfred Strom.

“To learn who rules over you, simply find out who you are not allowed to criticize.”

And Then An Observation...

   During my many glances through our front window - that would be from inside glancing to the outside - I’m staggered at the seemingly ever increasing number of homes, going by lunch time and all evening  long activity, that seem to be
ordering fast food to be delivered in these times of escalating cost of living.
   However, I guess if you’re a family of three or four or more and all agree on a burger topped with salad, it’s probably cheaper than going out, buying all the ingredients, driving home, preparing and cooking it all.
   It also crossed my mind how easily I become staggered in old age when I think back and remember the copious quantity of strong drink that I had{?} to consume to get me into stagger mode when younger. Now? Just a glance at the morning ‘news’ and I’m staggered...

Quote; ??

“Alcohol doesn’t make you fat, it makes you lean. Lean against tables, chairs, walls, floors and ugly people.”

And Then, A Food Memory...

   With all the recent typing regards food, I was lying in bed last night – I find that mode more comfortable than standing – and my head ambled back in time to something else food related.
   Way back, working offshore Vietnam, the Rig Manager used to meet us in a local bar in Vũng Tàu, where the chopper dumped us, to treat us to strong drink before we boarded the hydrofoil, on which more strong drink was consumed, to shoot up the Saigon river to Saigon – sorry, Ho Chi Minh City – to get our onward flights. After further indulging in yet more strong drink.
   Anyhoo, one trip he told us to drink-up as he was taking us for a meal. After twenty eight days offshore, food wasn’t all that high on the must do list, but he’s the boss so off we went.
   Just a short walk and we entered the eatery and it seemed it comprise of several private rooms one of which was booked for us and thus we entered.
   That’s when it all got a tad weird as we looked upon a large round table with every other seat being occupied by an attractive young lady so we all ended up sitting between two attractive young ladies. Whoa! Wot’s this all about then?
   Wot it was about was it was the hands free room of the eatery. Yup, order food, food arrives and the attractive young lady to the right of each of us proceeded to feed us. Nothing else, nothing naughty what so ever, just feeding us. 
   Man, it was a totally, like awesomely surreal experience to see a gang of roughy tuffy oil men being gently fed and having their chins dabbed by a bevy of beautiful young babes and one never to be repeated. Man, it was like, totally weird.
   The Manager just wanted to give us a taste of Vietnam and some of its stranger goings-on and on later reflection, it could've been a whole lot worse as at that time - still? - it was a thing to sit round a table with a hole in the centre up which, from below, they’d force a live monkeys head, slice the crown off said head and scoop out and gorge themselves on warm monkey brains. I’m typing rubbish? Do a Google. If you have a soft spot for monkeys, don’t...
   Giving all that no never mind, South Vietnam was really great fun with great people. Back then, thirty some years ago, many ex-pats were starting to make their home in Vũng Tàu; a great fun loving seaside town.

Quote;  Will Rogers.

“An onion can make people cry but there's never been a vegetable that can make people laugh.”

And Then Food...

   I can relate to food as typed about over at Head Rambles. It’s probably an age thing with me, but when I get a tad hungry all I want is something quick and dirty to fill the void.
   Cooking programs? One thing I can’t relate to is, while pointlessly clicking through the TV channels looking for something entertaining, is the huge number of cooking programs out there. There must be a market for them but they do nothing for me as I don’t want to spend half a day buying the correct ingredients then next day, shortly after breakfast, start preparing something that’ll take till teatime before it becomes edible.         
   From freezer to microwave to stomach works for me although wot you get has little to no resemblance to  the picture on the packaging.
   It’s also a tad spooky that when the cooking programs break for adverts, you’ll get adverts for home delivery ready meals for the elderly. Funny that.
   Eating out’s a whole different gastronomic affair all together as someone else is operating the cooking machinery. And I’m guessing that in most places this’ll be a really big grill, some hot plates and a bank of microwaves.
   My little nest of vipers enjoys her cooking and her curries are pretty damn good but her day to day cooking for herself takes quite some time to prepare but, to me, the end result still just looks like road kill and rice. Wot’s the old saying?  Rice is nice if you’re really hungry and fancy two thousand of something.
   While on the subject, are you bottled water folk like wot we are? Have you noticed wot we have as companies trim their production costs in an attempt to maintain profit margins?
   Not long ago, you could take your bottle, grip it in one hand and sharply twist the cap free. Seems they’ve dramatically reduced the gauge of the plastic bottles as if we try that now we find even a moderate grip is enough to squeeze half the contents onto the floor as the cap pressure is released. Needs must I guess.

Quote;  Fran Lebowitz.

“Food is an important part of a balanced diet.”

And Then, A Meal...

   But first, isn’t it time all these rebel{?} MPs got together with some of those fringe parties, UKIP, Reform, Monster Raving Loonies, independents  an’ such and thrashed-out a manifesto to cover their core beliefs in wot they believe to be the best for the country regards ‘local’ affordable energy supply, encouraging and supporting ‘local’ industries,  climate realists, border controls and as low a personal tax threshold as possible and formed just the one coherent, easily understood and well financed opposition party for the people? Fat chance.
   Anyhoo, on a brighter note, yesterday we jumped in the car and went for a tootle but, sadly, they were all sold out so we continued with a drive, found ourselves in a little market town, spotted a pub and decided to see how tricky it’d be to get a moronic Plan B plague time lunch.
   We tentatively entered and it looked like eaters to the left of us and drinkers to the right and there we were, stuck in the middle muzzle-less. And it was busy in both directions.
   We took a left, found a table and while my little nest of vipers looked at the pictures in the menu I took a look around. No tables were unsociably distanced and no seating at any tables was unsociably distanced. I also noted that another really, really important rule was being broken. Nobody, when moving about, was muzzled. I further noted that no bar staff or waitresses were muzzled. Nary a muzzle to be seen. Should I dial 999?
   No, so with a light heart, I ordered, we ate and as a final observation I realised why muzzles weren’t in use. There was a marked display of enjoyment in the place with much laughter and I remembered that the ‘experts’ had stated co-co doesn’t like laughter so muzzles weren’t required when being jolly...
   All-in-all a very pleasant lunch experience from which I’d like to think that, in the end,  ‘they’ ain’t gonna win.
   Let’s have this number again.
Little warning; co-co diehards who firmly believe gatherings are, like, disgusting haunts of plague transmission will probably want to skip wot’s below.

         

Quote;  Thor Heyerdahl.

“Progress is man's ability to complicate simplicity.”

And Then, A Good Mix...

   When we leave the place wot we live and either head north to the nearest market towns or onwards to the coast, we very quickly come to a roundabout on the dual carriage way. Straight on is the way we go – with slight bends so as to go round the roundabout of course.
   Take a right and you end up in a medium sized business park. However, the first premises just off the roundabout is a very large gym. This, we know, is the real deal, with gyms, pools and all you could think of fitness related.
   From the main road, through the trees, you get a good view of the huge carpark and it always seems well filled. Not long ago we noted building work was going on in the carpark so it would seem the gym or landowners, I no not which, have sold{?} a lump of the land.
   Anyhoo, for the first time in a while, wot with house arrests an’ all, we passed said gym along the dual carriage way and could see the building work was complete and the new premises were open right next to the gym so we just had to take a detour to check it out
   All I can say is that this is marketing genius on some ones part. And why would that be? That would be because the new build is a Burger King joint.... Gym carpark full; queue at the Burger King drive through and as best I could see, most tables taken.
   To add to the beauty of this fast food and exercise pairing, continuing along the main dual carriage way without turning off and after no more that a hundred yards after the gym and fast food roundabout, you hit another roundabout. Hang a right here and right off the roundabout is wot then? Why a hospital; the one wot I was in back 2019 at ticker-a-tack time.
   So there you go, over eat junk food or over exercise or a combination of both and you're only a sedate crawl to the hospital. This has to take marketing genius to a whole new level.

Quote;  Gigi Hadid.

"Eat clean, stay fit, and have a burger to stay sane."

And Then An Adventure...

   While out and about in the automobile today, we chanced to pass a nice looking pub wot had big signs out front advertising lunch. Shall we see if the filthy un-punctured can gain entrance?  Okay, try we done did.
   We were met at the door and I guessed that’d be as far as we’d get. Wrong.
“A table for two?”  came the question and after answering in the affirmative, we were shown to a table and asked to peruse the menu and order at the bar when ready.
   No health questions, no smartphone questions, no puncture status questions and no muzzle instructions. Stood back in amazement.
   I went to the bar and placed our order and that’s when it started.
”Does anyone in your party have any food allergies?”
”Wha....? Oh, no, nothing.”
   And that was it. Apart from the allergy thingy, absolutely as it was all that time ago pre co-co days.
   Meal was good and more than adequate for two old folk so all done, I offered my thanks, via the waitress, to the microwave, deep fat fryer and grill operatives, formally known as chefs or cooks, and fully replete we meandered on our way.
   So there’s still a life out there for the filthy un-punctured after all.
Addendumadodad: So life carries on for us elderly unclean but please stay frightened as gas prices continue to soar. They’re still coming for us. However, don’t give that no never mind and always remember the words from that old song;
Always remember the longer you live, the sooner you’ll bloody well die. 

Quote;  Jeffrey Wright.

“When you go to a restaurant, the less you know about what happens in the kitchen, the more you enjoy your meal.”

And Then, Food For Thought...

   I see the MSM are full-on food verses obesity and the climate today. It was reported that it’s predominately the poor and disadvantaged that are vastly overweight. No money but getting fatter? How this works wasn’t explained. Also, amongst all the screeching about sugar and salt, was the ‘fact’ we need to stop eating burgers, again, how not eating burgers will influence the cyclical cooling and heating of that bloody great big fireball up there, wasn’t explained.
   Anyhoo, I did pick up on a bit of ‘news’ that could be a boon for us older pensioner folk.  And that ‘news’ would be? Why, the idea that doctors should start prescribing fruit and vegetables. Hay, don’t laugh, it was on the TV, Okay? Not sure how that would work either as that little detail also wasn’t mentioned.
   Will doctors trawl through all their patient records to see who may benefit from fruit and veg? Unlikely.
   However, this could be a great, healthy, money saving plan for us elderly folk wot get wot’s termed free prescriptions. Actually paid for all our working lives. 
   How will that work then? Will we just phone our GP and say we’re feeling the need for some pears, a couple of lettuce and a pair of punnets of strawberries then get the script e-mailed to us and the pharmacy? Wot then, wait ‘till the pharmacy calls us to confirm they’ve had a delivery from the supermarket and the script is ready to be collected? Or do we collect our own from the store and just present the script at the checkout? 
   You get the feeling those wot dream-up these ‘ideas’ didn’t do that pause for thought thingy?

Quote;  Will Rogers.

“An onion can make people cry but there’s never been a vegetable that can make people laugh”

And Then, Eye Of Newt, Again…

   With the news that we must dramatically cut down on our consumption of beef an’ such as this will, in some mysterious way, save the planet, My poor ol’ head went spinning back to 2013 and a post wot I done did at the height of the horse meat ‘crises’ – remember that? Anyhoo, here he be again.
   With the continuing furlong, sorry, furore over horses rather than beefses meat being on our menus, what could possibly be next, and there will be a next.  Could it be the turn of the chickens?  You know what cannibals say about us and chicken, right?  Next time you have a ready chicken meal, check it out with great care and if you find any item of jewellery, however small, a shirt button or trouser zip, and if it has a slight odour of formaldehyde, I would seriously suggest you alert the authorities at your earliest convenience.  Once you're feeling a little better that is.
           
Note to self; avoid Shepherd's Pie for now.
   It's also my opinion you shouldn't dwell on any thoughts of what else could be going in and coming out of those 'meat' processing plants that's probably used to bulk up your Beef Bourguignon.
   What's my little nest of vipers think about all this?  No real big deal.  She does, however, harbour a hope that, with time, our eateries may become slightly more adventurous with their menus.
Waiter, "And for you Madam?"
Her indoors, "Is your fire burning and the cauldron bubbling?"
"That it is. Like a hell-broth it's boiling and bubbling."
"Right then, I'll have the fillet of fenny snake, with   eye of newt, and toe of frog,  wool of bat, and tongue of dog,   adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,  lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing.  Medium rare and a side-salad of poison ivy and chilli - heavy on the chilli - and a bottle of fizzy water with a straw please."
"A lovely choice.” said the waiter. “And for you sir?"
"I'll just have the Chef's Offal Platter Du Jure please.  With chips."
   On a serious note, I've decided against ready-made Ratatouille 'till things settle down a tad.  Okay, it's supposed to be vegetables but right now it seems what's on the tin ain’t necessarily what's in the tin and I'd hate to eat a Ratatouille just to find out, later, it was the exception to the rule and a product of Pied Piper Foods,

Quote;  Yogi Berra.

"When the waitress asked if I wanted my pizza cut into four or eight slices, I said, 'Four. I don’t think I can eat eight.'"

And Then A Caring Act...

Firstly, regarding my tin foil hat thoughts on DNA collection, have you seen this?
   The consumer DNA testing company Ancestry just sold for $4.7 billion dollars.
   Its new owners? The private equity firm Blackstone, which is now the new majority owner of the largest consumer database of human genetic and genealogical information in the world.
   Sales like these can be jarring for customers who took a DNA test and uploaded their results. When that data starts being bought and sold over the years, those customers become increasingly removed from what can be done with their genetic information.
And that’s DNA offered up in all innocence by folk with nothing more than an interest in family history. Who’d o’ thunk that’d happen eh? Now the government want to swab test us all for Covid-1984? Try this as well, a link from the above bit. Wot could possibly go wrong? Can I take this tin foil hat off now please?

Second up, my caring moment. Several mornings ago, it being an unusually warm, sunny morn, I took my coffee to the garden and as I walked past the biggest of our apple trees, a tree I knew birds were nesting in, I glanced down and there was a birds egg lying amongst the flowers. On inspection, the egg was found to be undamaged by the obvious fall from the nest way above. With feelings of sadness sweeping over me for the mummy bird in the nest above and her loss, I pondered wot to do.

Having pondered, not a pretty sight, I decided to risk life and limb so got the extending ladder and positioned it amongst the tree branches as best I could and with my little nest of vipers called from the kitchen, I climbed upwards and after an arduous endeavour, exhibiting all the nimbleness of movement of a beached whale, I finally located the nest. I then met my little nest of vipers half up and me half down the ladder and she handed me the egg. I got back up into reach of the nest, using one hand and my teeth, and carefully placed the egg back therein.

With a tremendous feeling of happiness and wellbeing, I got back to terra firma, put the ladder away and headed indoors where her had prepared a hearty breakfast comprising, amongst other stuff, two fried eggs... The irony of this was lost in the minute, foggy contents of my head until many hours later.

Quote;  J. M. Barrie.

“Pan, who and what art thou?" he cried huskily.
"I'm youth, I'm joy," Peter answered at a venture, "I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg.”

And Then It’s Food Again...

I see those that would rule over us are going to be coming for our food again. Doesn’t seem long ago they told us sugar is as deadly as cyanide now they’re coming for food that’ll be sure to give you a dose of this panda-panic flue thingy as they increase your weight. I blame fat people for this latest erosion of our freedoms. Why don’t those with ‘power’ instruct all fat folk to spend ten minutes, buck naked, in front of a full length mirror every morning? After that, old fashioned concept I know, but it’ll be up to them wot they do about their looks. Cheap, simple solution with no need to mess with the masses.

Or, of course they could go the whole  Covid-1984 hog and just declare muzzles must be worn at all waking times and meals will solely comprise of high vitamin concentrated liquids taken via the pre-fitted muzzle straw? Only Government supplied vitamin concentrated liquids of course, but that’s only common sense. Hell, they could sneak anything into that and thus into us. You WILL be controlled.

Not sure wot we have right now but wot we need is a proper Conservative government. Hell, we’re all easing towards the exit so why won’t ‘they’ just leave us alone to do our best, against all the odds, to enjoy the ride?

Anyhoo, to beat the ban and lest we forget, feast yourselves on this wot’s below. With fries of course. Me, myself and I don’t see muffin wrong with any of this.

       

Quote;  Zig Ziglar.

“A narrow mind and a fat head invariably come on the same person.”

And Then Cheap Nosebag...

Is it August yet? Is it too early to get booked up for that half price nosebag as promised by that Rishi Sad-sack fellow? I do believe we’ll give that offer a pass when you consider the hoops required to hop through to get a bite.

These eateries only have a slack hand full of tables, right? And I believe you have to check and book online. Assuming you get a table at a meal time, It promises to be a sad affair at a lonely table – some places, I believe, have surrounded each table with Perspex, being served by waiters wearing welders masks. That is, of course, after answering a few questions at the door and being checked out to ensure you’re tagged and tracked.

You see how they’re softening us up with more and more establishments scanning incoming folk with one of they remote thermometers? You wait. After the vaccine  becomes compulsory, to be injected along with your tracker chip, that thermometer will be swapped out for a bit o’ kit, similar in appearance, that will be read your chip, upload data to the Billy Ten mainframe and download and install software updates.

Something this way, controlling comes.

Quote;  Stewart Stafford.

“Spies are, by nature and necessity, pathological liars who strive to make their endgames justify their meanness.”

And Then, Cold...

Last week, where I be, we had the two coldest days of winter so far. So far, so wot? So the gas boiler threw a sulk and quit. This sulk was detected early AM but the repair person was crowded out ‘till the next day PM. That was a cold night away from the front of the fire let me tell ya’.

Anyhoo, boring story short, and I’ll quickly repeat an old by-the-by, there was a knock on the door and the fellow standing there greeted me with, “I understand you have an old boiler giving you grief?” To which I replied, “Yes I have but she’ll be fine once she’s warm again.” So, roll up he did, had a look and announced a part was required and he’d be back the next day AM so we suffered another cold night and we were starting to need proper showers... And thus, next day, he came, he fixed, he left - he left two folk arm wrestling for first go in the shower.

During this cold interlude I gave a thought to Greta, blessed be her name, and her ideas for us all and felt confident I’d prolonged the planets life by a minute fraction of a millisecond while the boiler was down. This saving may well have been negated owing to the gas fire consuming close to a weeks output from a North Sea gas field.

During that crisp pause I did me one of they ready meals. Hunters chicken with wedge potatoes and man, it looked good on the box. Once made hot I must say it was rather tasty. However, as with all this type of food, it lived up to its name and I had to hunt for the chicken.  These ready meals, however attractive the box illustration is, you can be sure that ninety percent of the meal will comprise of the cheapest produce you see in the picture. Rice, potatoes and peas seem to be favourites.

Quote;  Robert Byrne.

"Winter is nature's way of saying, 'Up yours.'"

And Then Another Job...

Over recent times you can’t have failed to hear and see, via all media outlets, that the country is facing an obesity epidemic and sooo much needs to be done to control us and so get folks weight down. Especially kids. As previously typed, my own unscientific observations would suggest that kids look totally un-fat. However, that’s just me with no vested interests.

Wot to do about it then? Well, would you believe it; MPs and others are now squealing for the appointment of a dedicated Minister for Hunger. Hello? Still nobody there then?

These fellows really do need to talk to each other and try to keep up with latest scare and ensure they’re all on the same page of the latest scare story and when a new scare is suggested ensure sufficient time has elapsed since the last scare so’s to stand the best chance that us down here have forgotten that scare. The time delay should be doubled, nay fourbled,  in the event of two totally contradictory scares for obvious reasons.

Addendum-a-Doodad: I see the Minister for Hunger will also be required to address the ‘problem’ of cheap food that, allegedly, leads to obesity. So people are so hungry they’re eating cheap food and getting fatter? Confused? And we wonder why that Brexit thingy’s posing so many ‘complex’ problems for our betters...

In other head shaking news from the BBCs environ-mental analyst... Standby for the introduction or a swingeing pet tax.

Quote;  Rob Zombie.

“Great things come out of being hungry and cold. Once you're pampered, you get lazy.”

And Then A Quiz...

We found ourselves way up the coast today when our stomachs mentioned it was a tad past lunchtime. As luck would have it, as this message was transmitted to our heads we drove up to a large pub advertising the fact they served lunch.

We entered a busy, although not as busy as the external smoking area, eating area, found a table, perused the menu and after choosing I prepared to the bar to order.

The first question I was asked at the bar was what was our table number. No problem as I’d noted it as I stood.
”That would be number eight.” I replied and this is when it got a tad weird.
”How many meals would you like to order?” asked the barman.
”Tow meals please.” seemed a reasonable reply.
”Are both customers sitting at the same table?” I admit to being caught a tad off guard at this but quickly regained my composure  and confirmed that, strangely, the two customers were indeed at the same table.

It went on in a similar manner right up to the pay point. *Straight fries? Curley fries? Spicy wedges? Seven ounce this, how done that. Fried onions? Onion rings? Eggs? How many? How would you like ‘em? Soft? Medium? Hard?

At the end, having paid and re-joined my little nest of vipers who was starting to worry as to my whereabouts, I wasn’t sure if I’d ordered food or been a contestant in a pub quiz. The food duly arrived so I can only assume that if it was a quiz, I got a pretty good score.

*Reminded me of something I heard where or when I remember not. “At the fish and chip shop I ordered fish cake and chips. On the way home I realised I’d got a meal basically consisting of potato with a side of potatoes.”

Quote;  Michael Lewis.

“foodstuffs absolved of the obligation to provide vitamins and minerals cavorted with reckless abandon.”

And Then, Skirting Round...

Okay, important stuff first. It was lunchtime thus time for lunch a few days ago and we felt the car pulling into one of they sizzling pubs so in we went. That would be the car park we pulled into. We walked into the pub. I was amazed to discover that the food manager for this particular pub grub chain obviously reads this Blog and in particular my post of praise regarding my recently discovered dish. Wot? Yup, right there, first page was crispy beef in chilli sauce with peppers an’ such.

Did I have it? Have it indeed I did and it was good. Sure it cost the equivalent of two takeaways but, hay, you have to add the cost for the utilities of the place, the waitresses, bar staff and the microwave operative, right?

And now for another in that irregular series that’s becoming all to regular; down and down we go. You seen this? Yup, another head shaker from a head teacher. One wonders if this headmistress, obviously a fierce defender of our education system and the importance of gender neutral dress codes, has the same views regarding any child of our newest bestest ever friends should they rock up in a bin bag. The kicker? This ‘policy’ was, allegedly, drawn-up with the agreement of the parents.

Now I apologise for belonging to a bygone age, but I’m pretty sure us lads weren’t allowed to wear long trousers at all ‘till we started secondary school at age eleven plus; and even when allowed I sure don’t remember being given the choice between shorts, full length flannels or a frock. Short trousers; See? I’m right. They’re mentioned in the comments here.

Hello? Is there anyone up there who’s responsible for schools and education? Don’t look like it do it?

Finally, I caught a bit of that speech regarding terrorism by Savage Javelin and the bit wot stuck was the bit about some fellows being radicalised by computers. No, not the Net – computers. Wonder wot that’s the first drip of that’s due down the line sometime soon.  My wild guess would be the mandatory registering, licensing, renewable yearly, at great cost, of anything that can access what will be left of the Net at that time. Your mandatory talking tin can will be exempt of course.
”Yo, tin can, where can I buy a ‘puter keyboard?”
”Busy right now; I’m just telling the mother ship that you’re building your own computer. Better open your front door now before it gets kicked in.”

Quote;  William A. Ward.

“The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.”