More about dogs
I’ve just been to the pet shop attached to my Vet’s place. I went there because I’m getting a tad pissed off with my 6 month old Border Collie dragging me around the streets and parks of Sunshine. It hasn’t really been the arm wrenching tugs, where the little bastard has either taken off at high speed, or dug his heels in to smell something interesting, when I am still being propelled forward.
Nah! What has really been giving me the screaming irrits, is his habit of running between my legs and then ‘playfully’ grabbing the leash (not my personal dangly ‘leash’, I hasten to add.) with his teeth and then performing gym-nasties, leaping hither and yon, with tail and legs akimbo, whilst running back and fro between my own unsteady pins.
The guy at the pet shop was aghast, when I suggested getting a metal leash. No! he said “What you need is a leather leash, and to discourage the little bastard from biting it, rub in ‘Deep Heat’ (which is an ointment used to relieve rheumatic pains and stinks worse than a strapping Jock’s, jockstrap). No self-respecting dog will bite on that, he said.
Whilst I was there with the dog and my son, he also showed us a ‘Clicker”, the idea behind this little doodad, is that you ‘Click’ and give the canine a treat, like half a sheep. The mutt will then associate ‘Clicking’ with large portions of cooked ovines.
He also showed us a ‘Treat-Ball’, this is a rather nifty idea, where you stick dry dog food (It wouldn’t work with corn flakes, so don’t buy one for your kid’s, although it could work with ‘Rice Krispies’, don’t tell anybody I told you!).
With this little sod, you poke ‘kibble’ in through a hole in the ball and then make the hole smaller and give it to the pooch. The hound then chases it around for hours on end, snaffling up dry crap, as it dribbles out.
Here’s a little ditty that I came across on the LiveIreland website, which is well worth a visit.
THE DOG’S ARSEHOLES
The dogs they had a party
they came from near and far
and some dogs came by aeroplane
and some by motorcar
They went into the lobby
and signed the visitors book
and each dog hung his arsehole
upon a separate hook
One dog was not invited
and this aroused his ire
he went into the lobby and loudly shouted “FIRE!!!”
The dogs got so excited,
they had no time to look
and each one took an arsehole
from the nearest hook
Now, its a sad, sad story
for it is very sore
to wear another ones arsehole
that you’ve never worn before
So this is why when dogs meet
by land or sea or foam
each sniffs the other ones arsehole,
in hope it is his own...
written by Matt McGinn of Glasgow.
I shall leave you with that thought.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
My time in Taiwan (continued)
The next morning I set out to explore a bit more and feeling a little peckish again, I looked for a cafe or restaurant. I saw a few places but because of the lack of English signs, decided against them until I came across a place with little plaster-cast models of different dishes in the window. Steak, Crab, Noodles and Rice and suchlike.
My first thought was that this could not possibly be a Ladies Hairdressing Salon and so I entered the establishment and attempted to converse with the very attractive young waitress in English. To no avail, I took her to the window display and pointed out something that looked like bacon and eggs. She smiled and we went back to the menu and she pointed at something, I smiled and nodded agreement.
When it arrived on my table, it was not remotely bacon and eggs but some sort of a beef noodly dish, which was very tasty, so I made a mental note to remember where I had pointed on the menu and paid and left, giving the waitress what I thought was a reasonable tip.
I returned to the same restaurant the next day and pointed at the menu at the same place and a different waitress looked at me quizzically and brought me a sort of omelette dish, this was still quite tasty, so I paid up with a reasonable tip and left.
The third day I went back and did the same thing and ended up with a fish soup. To this day I have no idea what I was pointing at on that menu. It could have been “A service charge of 10% applies in this restaurant” or “ No shoes, No shirt, No service” or “Please do not bring pets in here as they may be served up to the next customer”. After that I stayed with the “Golden Arches”. It may be plastic on plastic with a serve of plastic fries, but at least you know what plastic you’re ordering.
I decided to go down the coastal road on the east side of the island by bus and ended up at a resort near the start of the ‘East-West Highway’. I was sitting in a cafe enjoying a beer, when I was approached by a middle-aged guy who asked me in English if he could join me.
By this stage I was delighted to even hear English, so of course I said yes. He also had a younger friend who joined us, they were both trying out their conversational English. The elder of the two was a bio-ceramacist (don’t ask me what they do, something about artificial bones) who had studied and taught in the US and the younger one (who didn’t speak very much) was one of his students.
This guy was incredible, his English was a tad rusty, but almost perfect (as was probably, his Japanese and no doubt his Mandarin and Cantonese) and he was extremely well read. I asked him why Taiwan, which is such a beautiful country didn’t try to attract more Western tourists and he said that it was far better to get the Japanese tourists. The Japanese were widely understood, spent more money and were far more generous than the Westerners, so what was the point.
I also asked him why there was not far more animosity against the Japanese for them invading Taiwan, he just shrugged and said why don’t the majority of Japanese hate the Americans? Good point! I also asked him if there were any physical differences between the two races and he said not really, some Chinese can pass for Japanese and vice versa, although he may have been polite and tactful in saying that.
I spent a great couple of hours with them and learned more about Taiwan in that time than the rest of my time over there. I should have stayed in touch, but unfortunately I lost his card. From there I took a coach over the East-West Highway and it is a very impressive piece of civil engineering, with some incredible tunnels through mountains and bridges over valleys.
It was originally built for the military to get men and materiel from one side of the island to the other, in case of an attack by the sneaky Red Devils from the mainland. I would also imagine that the mountains are riddled with tunnels and caves concealing all sorts of delightful weaponry, but this is pure conjecture. From a tourist point of view Taiwan is worth visiting for that journey alone.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
My first thought was that this could not possibly be a Ladies Hairdressing Salon and so I entered the establishment and attempted to converse with the very attractive young waitress in English. To no avail, I took her to the window display and pointed out something that looked like bacon and eggs. She smiled and we went back to the menu and she pointed at something, I smiled and nodded agreement.
When it arrived on my table, it was not remotely bacon and eggs but some sort of a beef noodly dish, which was very tasty, so I made a mental note to remember where I had pointed on the menu and paid and left, giving the waitress what I thought was a reasonable tip.
I returned to the same restaurant the next day and pointed at the menu at the same place and a different waitress looked at me quizzically and brought me a sort of omelette dish, this was still quite tasty, so I paid up with a reasonable tip and left.
The third day I went back and did the same thing and ended up with a fish soup. To this day I have no idea what I was pointing at on that menu. It could have been “A service charge of 10% applies in this restaurant” or “ No shoes, No shirt, No service” or “Please do not bring pets in here as they may be served up to the next customer”. After that I stayed with the “Golden Arches”. It may be plastic on plastic with a serve of plastic fries, but at least you know what plastic you’re ordering.
I decided to go down the coastal road on the east side of the island by bus and ended up at a resort near the start of the ‘East-West Highway’. I was sitting in a cafe enjoying a beer, when I was approached by a middle-aged guy who asked me in English if he could join me.
By this stage I was delighted to even hear English, so of course I said yes. He also had a younger friend who joined us, they were both trying out their conversational English. The elder of the two was a bio-ceramacist (don’t ask me what they do, something about artificial bones) who had studied and taught in the US and the younger one (who didn’t speak very much) was one of his students.
This guy was incredible, his English was a tad rusty, but almost perfect (as was probably, his Japanese and no doubt his Mandarin and Cantonese) and he was extremely well read. I asked him why Taiwan, which is such a beautiful country didn’t try to attract more Western tourists and he said that it was far better to get the Japanese tourists. The Japanese were widely understood, spent more money and were far more generous than the Westerners, so what was the point.
I also asked him why there was not far more animosity against the Japanese for them invading Taiwan, he just shrugged and said why don’t the majority of Japanese hate the Americans? Good point! I also asked him if there were any physical differences between the two races and he said not really, some Chinese can pass for Japanese and vice versa, although he may have been polite and tactful in saying that.
I spent a great couple of hours with them and learned more about Taiwan in that time than the rest of my time over there. I should have stayed in touch, but unfortunately I lost his card. From there I took a coach over the East-West Highway and it is a very impressive piece of civil engineering, with some incredible tunnels through mountains and bridges over valleys.
It was originally built for the military to get men and materiel from one side of the island to the other, in case of an attack by the sneaky Red Devils from the mainland. I would also imagine that the mountains are riddled with tunnels and caves concealing all sorts of delightful weaponry, but this is pure conjecture. From a tourist point of view Taiwan is worth visiting for that journey alone.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
My own recollections of Taiwan in the '80's
To get back to Taiwan in the mid 80’s. I can’t quite remember why I decided to go there, it definitely wasn’t (and probably still isn’t) a popular tourist destination for Australians, Americans or Europeans. I think I was looking for a place a bit off the beaten track and I must have read something about it in the ‘Travel Section’ of one of the newspapers.
Whatever, I decided to go over there and have a quick shufty for myself, so I took off on an airline (I can’t remember which one, probably Cathay Pacific). After an uneventful flight, which was probably punctuated with a fair few alcoholic beverages, as was normal in those halcyon days of yore, I landed at the airport in Taipei.
I was transported to a hotel by a non-English speaking taxi driver and handed over a Taiwanese Shekel? or somesuch and he gave me a handful of different sized Taiwanese Centavos?. Being a very sceptical person regarding taxi-drivers in general and airport taxi-drivers in particular. I took him to the reception desk and asked the receptionist, if this lying bastard was trying to rip me off.
Unfortunately, the receptionist was equally as unreceptive as far as the English language went, but managed to convey the fact that they were in the process of changing from large coins to smaller coins and that some of the smaller coins were in fact worth more than the larger ones, even though they were made of the same stuff (In Australia most of the little ones are made of gold stuff and are worth more than bigger silvery ones).
As there were no Roman Numerals on the coins, this made life difficult during my time there and I had to rely upon the honesty of the good folks of Taiwan. Which is not a very reliable assumption of any nationality and I am not casting any aspersions on the Taiwanese.
After parking my bag and having a quick shower, I went back to the reception desk and managed to make it understood that I desired something to eat. She signalled that I could take a taxi, but once bitten, I decided to go out for a walk and check the place out, figuring that I could just do the usual and find a bar somewhere and have a packet of peanuts if necessary.
This proved easier said than done, this was early evening and already dark, so I approached the first place I came across with flashing neon lights and went in, to say that I was surprised to find that it was a ladies hairdressers would be an understatement. To find out that the next two places I approached turned out to be the same, was more than a trifle disconcerting. I appeared to have stumbled on the Ladies Hairdressing Centre of the Capital of Taiwan.
By this time, I had worked up a terrible thirst so I caught a taxi and indicated this in sign language. He took me to what may have been at that time the only street in Taipei that catered for western style drunks. I entered one such establishment and went to the bar, over which was a huge sign saying “IF YOU AIN’T A PILOT, YOU AIN’T SHIT”.
Being a bit of a grammatical pedant and not a pilot, I could only concur wholeheartedly with this sentiment. Seeing as the rest of the clientele appeared to consist of veterans of the ‘Flight over the Hump’ in the 1930’s. Or at the very least, from the Vietnam War, having ‘choppered’ innumerable Medevacs, I kept this observation to myself, (wisely, I thought at the time). Although I wasn’t totally accepted, I had a reasonable time and preferred it to being in a Ladies Hairdressing Salon.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
Whatever, I decided to go over there and have a quick shufty for myself, so I took off on an airline (I can’t remember which one, probably Cathay Pacific). After an uneventful flight, which was probably punctuated with a fair few alcoholic beverages, as was normal in those halcyon days of yore, I landed at the airport in Taipei.
I was transported to a hotel by a non-English speaking taxi driver and handed over a Taiwanese Shekel? or somesuch and he gave me a handful of different sized Taiwanese Centavos?. Being a very sceptical person regarding taxi-drivers in general and airport taxi-drivers in particular. I took him to the reception desk and asked the receptionist, if this lying bastard was trying to rip me off.
Unfortunately, the receptionist was equally as unreceptive as far as the English language went, but managed to convey the fact that they were in the process of changing from large coins to smaller coins and that some of the smaller coins were in fact worth more than the larger ones, even though they were made of the same stuff (In Australia most of the little ones are made of gold stuff and are worth more than bigger silvery ones).
As there were no Roman Numerals on the coins, this made life difficult during my time there and I had to rely upon the honesty of the good folks of Taiwan. Which is not a very reliable assumption of any nationality and I am not casting any aspersions on the Taiwanese.
After parking my bag and having a quick shower, I went back to the reception desk and managed to make it understood that I desired something to eat. She signalled that I could take a taxi, but once bitten, I decided to go out for a walk and check the place out, figuring that I could just do the usual and find a bar somewhere and have a packet of peanuts if necessary.
This proved easier said than done, this was early evening and already dark, so I approached the first place I came across with flashing neon lights and went in, to say that I was surprised to find that it was a ladies hairdressers would be an understatement. To find out that the next two places I approached turned out to be the same, was more than a trifle disconcerting. I appeared to have stumbled on the Ladies Hairdressing Centre of the Capital of Taiwan.
By this time, I had worked up a terrible thirst so I caught a taxi and indicated this in sign language. He took me to what may have been at that time the only street in Taipei that catered for western style drunks. I entered one such establishment and went to the bar, over which was a huge sign saying “IF YOU AIN’T A PILOT, YOU AIN’T SHIT”.
Being a bit of a grammatical pedant and not a pilot, I could only concur wholeheartedly with this sentiment. Seeing as the rest of the clientele appeared to consist of veterans of the ‘Flight over the Hump’ in the 1930’s. Or at the very least, from the Vietnam War, having ‘choppered’ innumerable Medevacs, I kept this observation to myself, (wisely, I thought at the time). Although I wasn’t totally accepted, I had a reasonable time and preferred it to being in a Ladies Hairdressing Salon.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
A very short, grossly inaccurate history of Taiwan
Taiwan
Just in case you’re unaware of it, (which is highly unlikely, or you wouldn't be perusing this) Taiwan is an island between 150-250kms (depending on which bit you look at) off the coast of mainland China that I visited in the mid- 1980’s. I went there for three weeks and had a stop over in Thailand for a bit of R and R for a week on the way back, for reasons which will become obvious if you carry on reading.
To give a little potted history of the Island, which may or may not be strictly accurate, on account of the fact that I’m relying on my memory and not looking it up on Google (which would be the obvious thing to do, but any silly bastard can do that).
Alright! Taiwan was originally populated by a mob of Chinese, they were invaded by the Japanese. They, the Japanese also invaded Manchuria, but they made a big mistake some time later, when they bombed the crap out of the American Fleet at Pearl Harbour.
This had the result of making the Americans very angry, which any idiot could have predicted. This resulted in the Yanks dropping a couple of atom bombs on Japan, which wasn’t particularly friendly, but did stop WWII which was good, unless you were Japanese. To the Taiwanese this meant the end of the Japanese occupation.
Meanwhile, on the Chinese Mainland, the Japanese had also returned home. This left the Communists under Mao Tse Tung and the Nationalists under Chiang Kai Shek to resume hostilities over who should rule China. Well, depending upon which particular school of thought you were dragged up under, for better or worse Mao beat the bejasus out of Chiang.
Chiang, spat the dummy and along with his supporters (The Kuomintang) grabbed as much gold and priceless relics as he could get his sticky fingers on and took off for Taiwan in 1949. I am unaware what the locals thought of this, they may have been overjoyed, or they may well have thought “What the fuck is going on here? I don’t like the look of this new mob!”
However, it was a ‘fait accompli’ as we intellectuals say and the locals were stuck with them. Between them they started copying things from the West in much the same way as the Hong Kongers (another mob of ex-patriate Chinese) so that ‘Made in Taiwan’ and ‘Made in Hong Kong’ and ‘Made in Japan’ became synonymous in the West as ‘A bunch of el-cheapo crap’ in the 50’s and 60’s.
Of course the Orientals were far too inscrutable and hard-working to let that continue and those labels are now badges of pride. All you have to do to confirm this, is to visit any Department Store or Car Yard and check out the electronic goods and cars and shake your head in wonder.
That ends the history lesson.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
Just in case you’re unaware of it, (which is highly unlikely, or you wouldn't be perusing this) Taiwan is an island between 150-250kms (depending on which bit you look at) off the coast of mainland China that I visited in the mid- 1980’s. I went there for three weeks and had a stop over in Thailand for a bit of R and R for a week on the way back, for reasons which will become obvious if you carry on reading.
To give a little potted history of the Island, which may or may not be strictly accurate, on account of the fact that I’m relying on my memory and not looking it up on Google (which would be the obvious thing to do, but any silly bastard can do that).
Alright! Taiwan was originally populated by a mob of Chinese, they were invaded by the Japanese. They, the Japanese also invaded Manchuria, but they made a big mistake some time later, when they bombed the crap out of the American Fleet at Pearl Harbour.
This had the result of making the Americans very angry, which any idiot could have predicted. This resulted in the Yanks dropping a couple of atom bombs on Japan, which wasn’t particularly friendly, but did stop WWII which was good, unless you were Japanese. To the Taiwanese this meant the end of the Japanese occupation.
Meanwhile, on the Chinese Mainland, the Japanese had also returned home. This left the Communists under Mao Tse Tung and the Nationalists under Chiang Kai Shek to resume hostilities over who should rule China. Well, depending upon which particular school of thought you were dragged up under, for better or worse Mao beat the bejasus out of Chiang.
Chiang, spat the dummy and along with his supporters (The Kuomintang) grabbed as much gold and priceless relics as he could get his sticky fingers on and took off for Taiwan in 1949. I am unaware what the locals thought of this, they may have been overjoyed, or they may well have thought “What the fuck is going on here? I don’t like the look of this new mob!”
However, it was a ‘fait accompli’ as we intellectuals say and the locals were stuck with them. Between them they started copying things from the West in much the same way as the Hong Kongers (another mob of ex-patriate Chinese) so that ‘Made in Taiwan’ and ‘Made in Hong Kong’ and ‘Made in Japan’ became synonymous in the West as ‘A bunch of el-cheapo crap’ in the 50’s and 60’s.
Of course the Orientals were far too inscrutable and hard-working to let that continue and those labels are now badges of pride. All you have to do to confirm this, is to visit any Department Store or Car Yard and check out the electronic goods and cars and shake your head in wonder.
That ends the history lesson.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Atheism! Who wants to be a Theist anyway?.
If you haven’t already guessed, or maybe I’ve mentioned it before, I am an atheist. If I was American, that confession would be like a Gay coming out of the closet, but I’m not and I probably never will be, either American or Gay, nor emerging from any closets in the foreseeable future.
Having said that, I’m not one of those ‘Hip New Atheists’, I don’t really give a raggedy dog’s arse whether you’re a ‘believer’ or not, that is entirely your decision. I realise that whatever I write is not going to change your mind one iota. As far as I’m concerned there are enough religions to go around for everybody, from Agnosticism to Zoroastrianism, choose one to suit yourself, but please refrain from trying to thrust it down other people’s throats.
Like I said at the start, I’m an atheist, which is the same as saying I’m not a ‘Theist’, defined as a person who believes in the existence of Gods or a God. Using this logic, an agnostic is a person who is not a Gnostic defined as a person usu. a Christian heretic claiming esoteric, mystical knowledge. But an agnostic is defined as (1) someone who believes that nothing is known or can be known of the existence or nature of God or (2) a person who is uncertain or non-committal about a certain thing.
Being a non-proselytising atheist can get a bit boring at times, so I wake up some mornings, feeling uncertain and a tad non-committal and decide that I’m going to be an Agnostic for the day. Most Fridays, I decide to be an a-Islamist, Saturdays an a-Judaist and Sundays an a-Christian.
Most of the time though, I’m an a-Pantheist, a Pantheist is defined as (1) a person who identifies God with the forces of nature or (2) someone who admits or tolerates all Gods. As an a-Pantheist, I don’t admit, but do tolerate any and all Gods. You could say that I’m apathetic towards the whole pantheon of them, but that would make me an apathetic a-pantheist.
If two negatives make a positive, as is widely accepted, that would make me a Pathetic Pantheist. I’m fairly certain that I don’t like that very much, but it is Sunday, so I might just partake of a few bottles of Altar Cider and think about it.
I invented my own irreligion once and called it Fosterarianism, but it has never caught on. It was quite a neat irreligion, advocating an end to Poverty, War, Global Warming and banning cars/aircraft and lots of other nasties.
I named myself the Messiah and my one and only convert was promised leadership upon my demise and descent into the Kingdom of the Worms. We were both expecting a bevy of beautiful young maidens to beat a path to the Temple/Garage door, but it didn’t eventuate.
I think the biggest problem was a lack of charisma on my part. Any Messiah worth his salt has to ooze charisma or chutzpah and I have to be honest here, a boiled turnip oozes more than I do. However, if you’re a fair young maiden at a loose end, with a fondness for boiled turnips, don’t hesitate to call.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
Having said that, I’m not one of those ‘Hip New Atheists’, I don’t really give a raggedy dog’s arse whether you’re a ‘believer’ or not, that is entirely your decision. I realise that whatever I write is not going to change your mind one iota. As far as I’m concerned there are enough religions to go around for everybody, from Agnosticism to Zoroastrianism, choose one to suit yourself, but please refrain from trying to thrust it down other people’s throats.
Like I said at the start, I’m an atheist, which is the same as saying I’m not a ‘Theist’, defined as a person who believes in the existence of Gods or a God. Using this logic, an agnostic is a person who is not a Gnostic defined as a person usu. a Christian heretic claiming esoteric, mystical knowledge. But an agnostic is defined as (1) someone who believes that nothing is known or can be known of the existence or nature of God or (2) a person who is uncertain or non-committal about a certain thing.
Being a non-proselytising atheist can get a bit boring at times, so I wake up some mornings, feeling uncertain and a tad non-committal and decide that I’m going to be an Agnostic for the day. Most Fridays, I decide to be an a-Islamist, Saturdays an a-Judaist and Sundays an a-Christian.
Most of the time though, I’m an a-Pantheist, a Pantheist is defined as (1) a person who identifies God with the forces of nature or (2) someone who admits or tolerates all Gods. As an a-Pantheist, I don’t admit, but do tolerate any and all Gods. You could say that I’m apathetic towards the whole pantheon of them, but that would make me an apathetic a-pantheist.
If two negatives make a positive, as is widely accepted, that would make me a Pathetic Pantheist. I’m fairly certain that I don’t like that very much, but it is Sunday, so I might just partake of a few bottles of Altar Cider and think about it.
I invented my own irreligion once and called it Fosterarianism, but it has never caught on. It was quite a neat irreligion, advocating an end to Poverty, War, Global Warming and banning cars/aircraft and lots of other nasties.
I named myself the Messiah and my one and only convert was promised leadership upon my demise and descent into the Kingdom of the Worms. We were both expecting a bevy of beautiful young maidens to beat a path to the Temple/Garage door, but it didn’t eventuate.
I think the biggest problem was a lack of charisma on my part. Any Messiah worth his salt has to ooze charisma or chutzpah and I have to be honest here, a boiled turnip oozes more than I do. However, if you’re a fair young maiden at a loose end, with a fondness for boiled turnips, don’t hesitate to call.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
Friday, May 22, 2009
Tasty and English Food, not an oxymoron
Contrary to popular Aussie belief that the Poms only eat fish and chips, roast beef and over-boiled vegetables, curry and chips. In fact, chips with everything including bacon, egg, spam and chips for breakfast. English cuisine has evolved just as much as the Aussie variety over the last twenty or so years. Having said that, I will start this ramble with a discussion about English Fish and Chip shops or ‘Chippy’s’, which are, after all a national institution and as such deserve a good review.
I have to say that I was very disappointed with the chips in general anyway, I think that the Poms have lost the ability to cook a decent chip. It could of course be that they just didn’t live up to the the exaggerated expectations of my memory. The fish was excellent as were the steak puddings and I fell in love with a couple of faggots.
This is not to say that my sexual orientation has changed, the faggots I ate were in Swadlincote, at the chippy in the main street. If I ever found out what they were made of, I probably wouldn’t touch them with a well greased High Peak Canal barge pole, but ignorance is bliss and what you don’t know can’t hurt you. So cliches apart, they were delicious, which is more than can be said for’mushy peas’.
I persuaded my daughter to try them, this could have been a big mistake, it took me ten years to get her to eat ‘frozen peas’. She took one fork-full of mushies and as I was sitting opposite her, it was only her genteel upbringing that prevented me from wearing them. It could take another ten years to get her to look a pea in the face again. I mentioned this to my Yorkshire friend DeeDee today and she loves them, she gave some to her kids and they asked her why the mashed spuds were green.
She also mentioned ‘Pease Pudding’, which I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting. Although I do remember the old English rhyme.
Pease Pudding hot
Pease Pudding cold
Pease Pudding in a pot
Five days old.
Which apparently refers to them throwing peas into a pot and keeping it on and off the boil, don’t ask me who ‘them’ were, look it up on Google, I’m too idle.
We then got on to discussing other offal things like ‘kidneys’, ‘brains’, ‘hearts’ and ‘tripe’, but I don’t want you to lose your last meal, so I’ll leave it there.
I ate a portion of cod and chips from ‘Andy’s Chippy’ in Swadlincote, which got an award for being the 2nd best chippy in the UK. The fish was superb but the chips were ordinary at best.
To get away from Chippies, I mostly ate at Pubs and Pub food these days is a revelation. It used to be pies and pasties, pickled eggs and peanuts. If you were really lucky you might have scored a dried-up sausage roll.
These days you can get everything from Thai food (which seems to be a bit of a favourite) through Chinese, Indian (of course) and the Olde English favourites. Roast Beef, Steak and Kidney Puddings, Gammon Steak, Ploughman’s Lunch with Pork Pies and cheeses, Liver/Bacon/onions. Not to mention various Continental dishes.
They varied in quality but were mostly very good, they have to be, because that’s how the Pubs make their money nowadays, since smoking was banned.
I was also lucky enough to stumble on a cafeteria at Morrison’s Supermarket in Swadlincote. Now, I’m not saying that the food served up there was exactly gourmet stuff, but when you’re like me and ‘eat to live’ rather than ‘live to eat’, their food is excellent value for money.
I normally only eat two meals a day, one at around 11:00am and the other at 7:00pm. A ‘Quick Start’ (I think that’s what it was called) brunch of ‘Egg, bacon, sausage, tomato and fried bread’ for two pounds seventy pee, was a great ‘start’ to the day, I wasn’t too impressed with the bread, it was too greasy and always a crust.
I did sample their excellent roast beef sandwiches on occasion, with a bit of salad, which was great with a cup of capuccino (no baristas there, out of a machine!). I once had the braised-liver, onions, mash and peas. O.K. but I can think of better brunches. (I am however in the process of cooking some up, with bacon for the family dinner tonight).
Overall, I liked English food and as an average shit-kicker, rather than an epicurean, I was more than happy with the grub served up.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
I have to say that I was very disappointed with the chips in general anyway, I think that the Poms have lost the ability to cook a decent chip. It could of course be that they just didn’t live up to the the exaggerated expectations of my memory. The fish was excellent as were the steak puddings and I fell in love with a couple of faggots.
This is not to say that my sexual orientation has changed, the faggots I ate were in Swadlincote, at the chippy in the main street. If I ever found out what they were made of, I probably wouldn’t touch them with a well greased High Peak Canal barge pole, but ignorance is bliss and what you don’t know can’t hurt you. So cliches apart, they were delicious, which is more than can be said for’mushy peas’.
I persuaded my daughter to try them, this could have been a big mistake, it took me ten years to get her to eat ‘frozen peas’. She took one fork-full of mushies and as I was sitting opposite her, it was only her genteel upbringing that prevented me from wearing them. It could take another ten years to get her to look a pea in the face again. I mentioned this to my Yorkshire friend DeeDee today and she loves them, she gave some to her kids and they asked her why the mashed spuds were green.
She also mentioned ‘Pease Pudding’, which I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting. Although I do remember the old English rhyme.
Pease Pudding hot
Pease Pudding cold
Pease Pudding in a pot
Five days old.
Which apparently refers to them throwing peas into a pot and keeping it on and off the boil, don’t ask me who ‘them’ were, look it up on Google, I’m too idle.
We then got on to discussing other offal things like ‘kidneys’, ‘brains’, ‘hearts’ and ‘tripe’, but I don’t want you to lose your last meal, so I’ll leave it there.
I ate a portion of cod and chips from ‘Andy’s Chippy’ in Swadlincote, which got an award for being the 2nd best chippy in the UK. The fish was superb but the chips were ordinary at best.
To get away from Chippies, I mostly ate at Pubs and Pub food these days is a revelation. It used to be pies and pasties, pickled eggs and peanuts. If you were really lucky you might have scored a dried-up sausage roll.
These days you can get everything from Thai food (which seems to be a bit of a favourite) through Chinese, Indian (of course) and the Olde English favourites. Roast Beef, Steak and Kidney Puddings, Gammon Steak, Ploughman’s Lunch with Pork Pies and cheeses, Liver/Bacon/onions. Not to mention various Continental dishes.
They varied in quality but were mostly very good, they have to be, because that’s how the Pubs make their money nowadays, since smoking was banned.
I was also lucky enough to stumble on a cafeteria at Morrison’s Supermarket in Swadlincote. Now, I’m not saying that the food served up there was exactly gourmet stuff, but when you’re like me and ‘eat to live’ rather than ‘live to eat’, their food is excellent value for money.
I normally only eat two meals a day, one at around 11:00am and the other at 7:00pm. A ‘Quick Start’ (I think that’s what it was called) brunch of ‘Egg, bacon, sausage, tomato and fried bread’ for two pounds seventy pee, was a great ‘start’ to the day, I wasn’t too impressed with the bread, it was too greasy and always a crust.
I did sample their excellent roast beef sandwiches on occasion, with a bit of salad, which was great with a cup of capuccino (no baristas there, out of a machine!). I once had the braised-liver, onions, mash and peas. O.K. but I can think of better brunches. (I am however in the process of cooking some up, with bacon for the family dinner tonight).
Overall, I liked English food and as an average shit-kicker, rather than an epicurean, I was more than happy with the grub served up.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull
Thursday, May 21, 2009
English Weather in November
ENGLAND
I recently returned back to England for the first time in twenty years, mainly because my Dad sent the family some money and the family decided that it would be a good idea for me to go back and see him before one or both of us croaked-it.
As I am one of the most invalid (as in not valid) Invalid Pensioners in existence (In my opinion, anyway!) It was decided that I should go over there with my 14 year old daughter Ness, as a Carer, Hmmh!
I didn’t particularly want to go over there as a tourist and only wanted to go and see my old hunting grounds (walking, pubs and chip-shops) and my Old Man and do boring old-farty things. My sister, in England agreed with this and said that she would pay for Nessie’s airfare and look after her over there while I did my own thing.
I arranged to stay in a cottage in Little Hayfield for the first and last weeks and stay with my sister in Swadlincote for the middle two weeks. This is an an edited account of our trip. Ness can give her own version. We left at the beginning of November, which was not an ideal time from her school’s point of view, but they reckon that travel broadens the mind and I thought that a month in England would be a better education, than a month doing trig and Religious Education in North Melbourne.
ENGLISH WEATHER
As an expatriate Pom I was a tad disappointed in the weather, November is supposed to be cold, wet and miserable. I was expecting snow, hail, frost and gale force winds. I was expecting to get chilblains on my extremities fingers, toes and possibly testicles (maybe not!). I was expecting to be slipping and sliding on icy pavements.
My Good Lady Wife (GLW) had bought me a padded jacket (parka, not strait-jacket) that would have kept Oates warm and saved him from farewelling Scott and staggering to his demise in the Antarctic wastes. I had to carry it through Changi Airport in Singapore (which boasts of being 3 degrees north of the equator and is consequently bloody hot) because it was too bulky to fit in my suitcase. My daughter said it looked like I was carrying a very large baby or a very small midget, so we called it ‘Midge’ and took a photo of it sitting in a seat with it’s arm around my shoulders.
I wore it once at Manchester Airport when my nephew picked us up, but I had to take it off to get into the car to fasten the seat belt. After that, I never wore it again and gave it away to my 87 year old dad. While he thought I wasn’t watching, he gave it away to my brother-in-law and that was the last I saw of dear ‘Midge’.
To get back to the point, ‘English Weather’, it was either exceptionally mild or maybe with ‘global warming’ that sort of weather has become the norm. It was quite cold on our first day there on 30th October and as I was staying up near the Peak District, we did experience snow when we drove a little higher. This was promising, not exactly ‘Midge’ weather, but getting close.
I spent a week up in the hills and got wet once, but apart from that, nothing. I then spent two weeks in Swadlincote, where it was even milder before returning back to Little Hayfield in the Peak for another week. I did get a little flurry of snow while I was there, it lasted for about five minutes.
After we returned to Aus (26C) I checked the weather in the UK the next day and it was a min -6C, max 3C in Stockport and would have been even colder in the Peak. I thought, bugger this, I’ll go in February next time.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull.
I recently returned back to England for the first time in twenty years, mainly because my Dad sent the family some money and the family decided that it would be a good idea for me to go back and see him before one or both of us croaked-it.
As I am one of the most invalid (as in not valid) Invalid Pensioners in existence (In my opinion, anyway!) It was decided that I should go over there with my 14 year old daughter Ness, as a Carer, Hmmh!
I didn’t particularly want to go over there as a tourist and only wanted to go and see my old hunting grounds (walking, pubs and chip-shops) and my Old Man and do boring old-farty things. My sister, in England agreed with this and said that she would pay for Nessie’s airfare and look after her over there while I did my own thing.
I arranged to stay in a cottage in Little Hayfield for the first and last weeks and stay with my sister in Swadlincote for the middle two weeks. This is an an edited account of our trip. Ness can give her own version. We left at the beginning of November, which was not an ideal time from her school’s point of view, but they reckon that travel broadens the mind and I thought that a month in England would be a better education, than a month doing trig and Religious Education in North Melbourne.
ENGLISH WEATHER
As an expatriate Pom I was a tad disappointed in the weather, November is supposed to be cold, wet and miserable. I was expecting snow, hail, frost and gale force winds. I was expecting to get chilblains on my extremities fingers, toes and possibly testicles (maybe not!). I was expecting to be slipping and sliding on icy pavements.
My Good Lady Wife (GLW) had bought me a padded jacket (parka, not strait-jacket) that would have kept Oates warm and saved him from farewelling Scott and staggering to his demise in the Antarctic wastes. I had to carry it through Changi Airport in Singapore (which boasts of being 3 degrees north of the equator and is consequently bloody hot) because it was too bulky to fit in my suitcase. My daughter said it looked like I was carrying a very large baby or a very small midget, so we called it ‘Midge’ and took a photo of it sitting in a seat with it’s arm around my shoulders.
I wore it once at Manchester Airport when my nephew picked us up, but I had to take it off to get into the car to fasten the seat belt. After that, I never wore it again and gave it away to my 87 year old dad. While he thought I wasn’t watching, he gave it away to my brother-in-law and that was the last I saw of dear ‘Midge’.
To get back to the point, ‘English Weather’, it was either exceptionally mild or maybe with ‘global warming’ that sort of weather has become the norm. It was quite cold on our first day there on 30th October and as I was staying up near the Peak District, we did experience snow when we drove a little higher. This was promising, not exactly ‘Midge’ weather, but getting close.
I spent a week up in the hills and got wet once, but apart from that, nothing. I then spent two weeks in Swadlincote, where it was even milder before returning back to Little Hayfield in the Peak for another week. I did get a little flurry of snow while I was there, it lasted for about five minutes.
After we returned to Aus (26C) I checked the weather in the UK the next day and it was a min -6C, max 3C in Stockport and would have been even colder in the Peak. I thought, bugger this, I’ll go in February next time.
Cheers for now,
SkyBlueSkull.
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