It’s been an odd month. Actually, it feels more like an odd week as time seems to have changed and speeds by as quickly as chocolate leaves the fridge and enters my mouth. Gump’s silly tomatoes have grown like Jack’s beanstalk. He’s had quite a few to eat already but is constantly worrying about this or that blight, and frankly, the selection process over which tomato is going to have in his sandwich is worse than any kid picking out a toy with his birthday money.
I’m getting grumpy. I suppose it’s a natural occurrence as I grapple with my sixties, unwanted hair in the wrong places, and much wanted hair falling out of all the important places. Toss in a measure of Covid, the political … Continued
How has more than a month gone by since I last posted a blog? My sense of time has completely evaporated, along with my penchant for a dust-free house. Who can blame me? The only people to dust for are … Continued
What I didn’t mention in my previous post, was that the day I arrived in England, my cousin’s hot water heater went kaput. She was mortified. I was not at all concerned. What did I care about taking a shower/bath? I had a comfy bed, and chocolate in the fridge.
When I was a kid, and our family took a road trip, my dad would get us up at four o’clock in the morning so we could get on the road bright and early. We’d be so excited….mum would get the thermos full of hot, sweet tea, and we’d down our cereal and toast in record time. The car would have been packed the night before, and off we’d set with our favourite toy, a book to read in the car, and the ever-present scent of egg sandwiches assaulting our noses and making us salivate. We’d feel like we were on a grand adventure, and we were always so thrilled to arrive at our destination four hours later. That’s right, FOUR hours later. By British standards, that was considered to be a long drive, worthy of all the food consumed en-route. Any journey longer than that would require a stop-over at a B&B.
In the thirty plus years I’ve lived in the USA, I’ve long heard Americans joke about British food. There are two predominant comments.
British food is ‘bland’ and ‘has no seasoning/flavour
How can you eat kidney pie? (This is a misconception. Small pieces of kidney are mixed with tons of steak to add flavor, and it is called a STEAK & Kidney pie)
Greetings….from your chocolate deprived (or is it depraved) friend Jude. Since I last whined to you I have…..
I am going through this weird phase at the moment, I am obsessed with wanting to be British. I am British, so fortunately I can do that part, but along with it I am craving all things British (except big noses and thin lips, oh and black socks with tennis shoes)-
I had a wonderful weekend last week post-blog, as I threw a birthday party for Forrest Gump, a Mexican themed party to be exact. I was so organized… I’d been planning the menu for several days (well at least in my head….)