Good morning Negative-Soundbyters! Another early start - wow! I find that the creative juices flow more readily first thing, especially with a special brew of aromatic Earl Grey/Tetley mix tea at the ready.
Any events of major geopolitical significance in this last week that I should mention? Well it was my birthday on Saturday – does that count? I suppose I am now classified as being in my “early” forties. Ouch. To honour that we kicked off the festivities on Friday night at Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park because that’s exactly the sort of place a guy resisting the onset of his MID forties goes to soothe his inner child!
Saturday was a sojourn into town for Book of Mormon and then onto Mash for a massive steak. If you happen to be an actual Mormon with a sensitive side (in fact any sort of side!), that particular West End show is probably not for you. It’s safe to say that it takes the piss BIG TIME!
A massive shout to Mrs H though for performing some heroics at the restaurant. One of our party, who was sitting opposite me, attacked her steak with such vigour that she started choking. She was pointing feverishly at her throat and began turning puce. I couldn’t for the life of me work out what she was going on about. Her boyfriend, it’s fair to say, didn’t have much of a clue either. We might have been discussing sports results at the time. Not Mrs H! She sprung into action, grabbed our guest, and performed the Heimlich manoeuvre right there. Result – a small piece of medium rare Rib Eye arced gently across the table and nearly landed in my peppercorn sauce!
The restaurant manager hurried over and explained that the Heimlich manoeuvre should really only be used as a last resort. First get the choker to cough. If that doesn’t work, a firm slap on the back. And if that doesn’t work, only then….
Mrs H was close to performing the manoeuvre a second time but I quickly poured her another glass of pinot and we carried on with our evening thankfully without further incident!
And on that happy note, lets get on with this week’s post!
Yours in satire, steak and saving lives
Hoddy
Mrs H has been giving me more chores of late. It might be because she believes I have more time on my hands by virtue of not actually having a fulltime job. This is a bit unfair – I mean this journey of self -discovery can be tiring at times and I need my rest to recalibrate! This has cut short shrift. Result: I have got to know my local Sainsbury’s supermarket very well. Mrs H feels that doing some grocery shopping is one chore that I can’t really stuff up.
So I am heading off to the gym when a list is thrust into my hands for a few ingredients for a light chicken curry.
• Ginger
• Big tray of skinless boneless chicken thighs (12)
• Can of light coconut milk
• Baby spinach
• Tomato puree
• Broccoli florets
There’re a couple of banana skins on this list but I am hurrying out of the door so I don’t enquire any further. Like what exactly is a floret and note Mrs H didn’t leave anything to chance around the meaning of a “big tray”?
Now closer to the gym is a Tesco. I leave the gym after a herculean workout (sort of!) and make the fatal decision of entering unchartered territory. Tesco v Sainsburys? Tesco is more convenient!
I walk in and am immediately overawed by the sheer scale of the place. No jokes it resembles an airport hangar at Heathrow. I expect to see an Airbus parked in the corner. It’s that big. The place is a monument to what is called BIG BOX retail (in real estate parlance). And you have no doubt that the lights are on; my word – about a billion candle at least in case you miss that speck of dust on your carrot.
I feel a small prickle of fear starting to form at the base of my neck. This is an intimidating environment. I don’t know where anything is. The isles stretch for miles. I might actually get lost! Anyway I pick up my wire basket and gingerly make my way into the melee that is Tescos on a Thursday evening…..
Well to say that it didn’t go very well would be an understatement. I must have toured the grocery section about five times. Plenty of broccoli – but could I find a label with the word “floret” on it…no sir. You see I don’t actually know what a floret is, so I was relying on being able identify it by letters as opposed to shape! Baby spinach. You must be joking. I located some spinach in a bag, but when Mrs H says “baby” she means “baby”! And of course trying to find the bloody Ginger….crikey – more needles in a haystack please!
So I abandoned the grocery section and hightailed it over to the meats section. How hard can it be to find the chicken I asked myself? As it turns out, very hard. Go back to the list. Skinless, boneless and they must be thighs. And TWELVE of them. Well there were more variations of chicken than I could shake a stick at, like ever! But do you think I could combine all three of those words and the number “12” together? You must be kidding. Skinless, not boneless. Boneless, not skinless. Skinless, boneless chicken legs, not goddamn thighs! And then did she want organic or just “normal”?
I was nearly 25 minutes into this shopping expedition with not a single item in the basket. A lot of aimless wandering around the megastore with precisely ZERO to show for it! Perspiration poured down my furrowed brow. I was in deep doo-doo. Mrs H had given me a deadline for goods delivery. So I made an executive decision and decided to cut my losses. (Although it’s not like I had anything to cut – there wasn’t anything in the basket!)
I hightailed it over to my Sainsbury’s and as soon as I entered the front doors I felt a sense of calm and warmth. My spiritual shopping home. Everything was where it was supposed to be. All the veggies, the right combination of chicken pieces, the can of light coconut milk and tomato concentrate (not crushed tomatoes, a mistake I have made previously!) – packed neatly and tidily and organised in such a way that I could actually find them!
I exited the store, carrier bag in hand, with a little skip in the step and a knowing smile. I had done it. Mrs H would get her ingredients slightly behind schedule but at least I had gone that extra mile in ensuring they were the correct items. On the other hand she would have just sent me out again….!
OUT.
Pic of the week: I like the rural setting for this red telephone box. It's beautifully English!
