I goes down to the car park to wind up Gobbler & Co.
Throw out The Indigestible.
Mrs Gobbler is the first to pick up.
Struggling to actually hold it in her red beak.
It looks like bread.
But it tastes like a bit of mouldy old rubber.
She drops it.
Next comes The Gobbler.
Next comes The Gobbler
In for the kill.
What you gonna make of that Gob?
Disgusting. Disgusted!
I thought he was gonna attack me he was so upset.
German Rye bread is an acquired taste.
And best left to Germans to acquire it.
blah
blah
A big big egg.
As laid by one of Kaerens hens.
I think she feeds them on monster munch.
Its why they’re monster eggs.
I won’t eat it for a while.
Leave it there.
To mutate.
I don’t know if his name was Larry (as in “happy as”) But it should have been.
A local lamb our Larry. Lived up the road. Chopped up into chops and joints, he’s now stuffed in Georg’s freezer for the winter.
This is what Larry – as chops – looks like on a plate
Look at how original those chops look – as original and as individual as Larry himself. Nothing fancy needs to be done to enjoy juicy fat chops like that
He melted in my mouth did Larry.
The loveliest, lambiest, chops of lamb i think I’ve ever tasted.
And here he is.
Well – not really.
(This is how Larry the Lambster exists in my head)
I went out daintily raiding the hedges for blackberries and elderberries
Into this cute little green bucket.
Passing motorists were swerving past, giving me a wide berth.
Probably baffled and slightly alarmed at the sight of me.
I could see them on their mobys: “Odd bald bloke on country lane messing about in hedges with little green kiddie bucket”…..
“Ring the Police”
“No, ring that queer paper The Gay Times”
No, ring bloody “Housewife’s Choice”
- and ask them for a recipe for Elderberry Cordial!
I had these for my brekkie this morning
Persimmons and – wait for it – “Donut peaches?!”. They weren’t anything special. I suppose you’d pay £1.80 (for 5) cus they look different. Look good on a birthday tray as a treat. (I only paid 30p cus they were on their last sell-by-date)
The persimmons were great tho. Sticky syrupy pulpy mush. It reminds you of something. Like sex you’ve never had but kinda knew existed somewhere, somehow – in a far away lovelier place (they’re a Japanese fruit i think)
I’d never eaten them before – and now – within the space of a few weeks I’ve eaten them twice. (First time was that morning camping on the Teign estuary with George)
I’d eat them again. But don’t think I’d buy them again, unless they get reduced (like these were)
Too expensive this exotic fruit for people to buy in these cash-strapped times.
Even cherries seem exotic now.
I need to save up.
