Proper Food

Bread and dripping. Preferably pork dripping with salt and lots of the dark jelly. Not toast from one of these electric toasters, but proper toast, made with a toasting fork in front of a real fire - something that has stepped into the realms of fantasy.

The health police have deemed it unsuitable for human consumption - too much salt, too much fat and the carcinogens from the fire. Worse than smoking, apparently!
Let’s just be realistic for a moment. These were staples of the diet for generations. People were brought up on things like bread and butter pudding, suet puddings, jam roly-poly, rice pudding (with a few fights for the skin with the siblings). They were real stick your ribs together foods, that once eaten, you knew that you had been fed, not stuffed with additives and preservatives which could end up making you glow in the dark.

My solution? bring back toasting forks and lets have lardy cake and dripping and tonnes of jam, lashings of butter and real butter at that - not the diluted stuff. It used to come in barrels and was cut up in the shop, weighed and wrapped in greaseproof paper. Are you listening Mr Morrison? We want REAL BUTTER! So let’s campaign for the return of the toasting fork, but hey! the biggest handicap to this will be gas central heating.
Back to the drawing board.

Last weekend whilest taking the air, Murphy and I were by a brook when a movement caught my eye. I thought it was an otter or a small dog. It turned out to be a large trout, a good 2 1/2 lb and it was in water half its body depth and was digging in the gravel. What a sinuous movement as she made a hole in the gravel, then I realised she was digging a trench to lay her eggs. It was a brown trout, and good luck to her.

Murphy disappeared into the undergrowth and was deaf to my calls. What’s new? As I sat waiting for his return I watched a buzzard with an escort of rooks. The rooks were trying to mob the buzzard but with very little effect. The contempt which he displayed to these raucous corviners was an abject lesson in disdain.

No Murphy yet but some action - a mob of long tailed tits are working on an ivy covered tree. I want see what they are eating, but it must be something tasty as there are a dozen of them and they are so acrobatic and full of energy. Watching them is quite tiring.

The dog’s back, covered in something horrible. A foxy essence is the polite way to describe it. Makes your eyes water!
I’ll leave you with this thought:-

Sign in florist’s window: Send the one you love some flowers
Whilst your at it, don’t forget the wife.

See you!